Everything in the orphanage
belongs; stars are fed and fed
to emptiness, the
dark space
not empty, buoys
a girling in between;
an in between that
is not ―Alive!
***
The moment light fed here
‘is not’ began to be-long;
it longed and moved
movements twy-formed
in being-so; nothing
came first
these movements
swished & swirled
in twirling swishes hissing
where no one wanted to be
starry movements in ‘once upon a’
timed be-long still not anything
& life’s conception thrice prolonged
noticed there was a girl-tale in it and
the holiness of it.
***
The fire, what fed there, had its
own weathered reasoning.
Nay! Two, at least!
Subjectivities already without subjects
knew no riddance; rhymed and reasoned
why a world weight upon it.
T’here came Death; it entered on cue.
Love, his brother came licking his chops, too
and you and I entered like they
star-flung tales tailing creaturely sire.
Nowhere swished feathered rivulets t’here
almost successfully
***
Once upon a milk bond is make-believe
Light, growling is too, in substances tis true
which knew no riddance. So, too
did a reflection likened unto a girl
enlivening a crèche of stars with a tiny God.
And, the story says, he placed her
in the belly region
along with the enlivener, not filling
a creaturely sire who’s tail feeds ‘there’ t’here.
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