whale strip

This Side of Heaven
is not pure light
but divided terrain
angel sees the mistake coming
and walks toward it anyway
that strange grief of already knowing
a soft corruption

paintings as soul-fragments
capable of being cut apart
and mended back together
destruction not as ending
but as transformation
remake not to restore
but to rearrange
angel, what a great idea

where ever the wind blows
or was it any way the wind blows?
a question suspended in folds
memory repeats until the edges fray
hindsight shifting meaning
emotional maintenance
laundry airing in the wind, heaven
dishes in the sink
rinse, repeat

fish as self-portrait proxy
metallic, drifting, healing
fear of waves dissolving
that instinct to submerge
to cool down grief
become weightless
stay a float