Wednesday

this morning, the weather is cooler,
and there is threat
of snow again in the midwest.

there are
heart-shaped messages
in my inbox that aren’t
really hearts, just
numerical symbols
that vaguely remind
of my struggles with multi-
variable calculus.

that was a long time ago. this
morning, the cat
won’t let me work.

he sits on my hip
as i type, scrutinizing
every last alphanumeric
equivocation.

outside,
there are
fast-moving clouds
of i-don’t know-what
kind; they make his tail
twitch and my eyes
wander.

i am thinking
about storms (about you),
about dancing (about me),
about how they ought
to make a good poem

together:
a story of spirals and dervishes,
the solution
to some deceptively
simple equation
that explains the mysteries
of mathematics,
or metaphysics,
or something.

the cat
is a terrible spell-
checker.

flight and contemplation

metaphysics is the drag and
lift of some aerodynamic dream
cradling you to the height where
your head scrapes cloud but
you look up and find only
the heave and sensuality
of the breath of God.