December 03, 2008


Girl in the nighttime of her attic bedroom…squirrels scratch inside walls and hot cats give infant wails to the summer streets below her darkened window. Under the starlit noise five great hands rise from a floor of clouds…in the center of each hand is a twinkling gem. These hands stand, palms to palms, each four times the size of the girl. Together they bend open softly lit flower petals. The girl is so young, just a child from her attic bed. Enchanted she walks the clouded floor. She is a toy ball taken, a soap bubble blown, a blue egg found, beating. Thrust under by the praying hands, under the expanse of shimmering clouds. She floats the breath of infinity, the sac of waters, and vessel-ed radiance.

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