grandpa

oh old departed man
everytime i look at certain plants
their blooms and foliage

bring you back to me
i see you in the garden
bent over feeding the glorious white roses

you have not left me at all,
not as i thought
like the old monk said,

"death is only a notion,
a human notion"
i've been listening to this

intuition inside of me,
wondering from where it comes
wondering of its vibrant, almost violent

intensity like the color
of a crimson rose bleeding into white
i am realizing it is still you

inside of me, you still teaching
i should have known you had
not finished the lessons yet

firefly

it was a stranger in the crowd
someone passing by, a glance, an impression,
an almost encounter that brought visions of firefly

briefly but vividly
triangulated between
the eyes, the brain and the heart

the pools of her dark eyes
loomed in my field like
the black sea under a new moon

how could such titan eyes
be supported by the waif like frame?
how does the smile below those eyes

move my being more than
three hundred gods
in six thousand years?

the vision of firefly departed
as quickly as it came,
my internal triangle unable to hold

her presence like the giant
tanks of chemicals buried by
scientists trying to capture neutrinos