Saturday, July 17, 2010

Heart Filter

I've updated my website recently with links to published works that are available online.

I've been submitting work to lots of journals this year and have some new publications. I am still submitting my manuscript "The Hidden Largest" and have a new collection in the works.

Below is a poem "Heart Filter" from my book "If There Is a Center No One Knows Where It Begins". I have it listed at poemhunter.com, but aren't their ads totally annoying?! It is a handy site though as a way to find poems and copy them to something else with out having to type the whole thing in yourself (in fact, I just did that to post it here).
I like too that I am listed just before Edgar Allan Poe
(only because it is alphabetical)!

Heart Filter

There is light inside of every thing.
If I were a transparency,
a vapor, a mist, a pane of glass,
it would travel from its universal source
straight through me
and shine upon you.
You would feel its warmth.

The shine of the sun blazing, burning, glowing yellow
has journeyed all this way
traveling upon, yet contained within
space enormous and thick.
Travels a wide open course
until it is intercepted by the manifest world,
caught in the web of living things.
The filter of the branches of the Redwoods
catches the light in its airy net
so that it reaches the ground in small patches-
as if these diffuse rays are just enough
for fern, shamrock and coastal jay,
as if this canopy protects us
from being utterly consumed by the searing
sun passion love fire whose combustion
warms us from the inside
and out,
whose effusion from source into matter
is a miniscule point
exploding with no limits
other than the filter of our hearts
and this canopy of silent leaves.

Light falls like snow
suspended in the air
reflected on droplets of mist
in filaments, figments, facets,
floating, flittering, flying,
hovers upon the breath of the ancient forest community-
a glimmering reflection of life before the last ice age,
its secret revealed in the pattern of this illumination,
every day writing the memoir of itself.

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