Tuesday, November 01, 2011

Poetry is a Religious Act

I thought I saw God
in a dark mass of rain
in the puddles on the roof.

I am not prone
to hallucinations or hauntings
but a shape swirled

like a galaxy forming
out of raindrops gathering
on tar paper, bits

of blackened sand
carried by the invisible current
of rain.

Time stopped as I
watched it spin from one darkness
to another.