M.T.C. Cronin
Huge & Pale

Heaven comes through a hole in the wall.
It drips.
It brings with it a straight arm
and a book with an orange cover.
The book is nourishing and the arm is straight.
Everybody might become excited
except that there is nobody in the room.
Heaven drips into an empty room
because of its ego
huge and pale.
God is poking it through the wall
with a torch.
The torch is so God can see where
Heaven is going because Heaven is as stupid
as a whale
pure and pale.
Even though I am not in the room
I catch Heaven in a bucket.
I grab the book with a straight arm
and toss it straight at God.
There you go cries my poem
stick that in a hole and see if you can
push it through
and the wall quivers as God whacks a whale
against the new opening
in my metaphorical sea.

Apologizing to the Ladybird’s Spirit

There is no word
that might not start a sentence
No face
that will not one day break itself
into the monotony and many
of blades of grass
concealing from our feet
the grip life has
on death’s ubiquity
Look at stone
if you wish to read the language of wind,
of water
Ask the ladybird for her blessing
in your palm
then apologize to her spirit
for refusing to match
her clear heart
The light shadow of the leaf’s pure life
has no intention
though you follow it
with your eye
Magic lands on the earth
as if the earth had a sun