to drop into the lap of love
dancing within the secret life of flowers
like angels on the head of a pin
and to bring within your step a mastery of life
(concern ourselves in the fashion of ephemeral troubles)
have you not heard? the Good News in riddle?
the best story wins
the pieces made to fit together
we cut no corners
it’s meant to give at each its edge
what tune is it in the susurrus atmosphere of the Movie?
the music that makes us solid
as i waltz with a burning one
i know, for one, luck is no beggar
i to have fashioned my own very hands
to have been favored to dip in the gravity of it all
my card without art i dropped in her lap
the story composing itself past anxious first maneuvers
this dream does not end like you think
the best story wins

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The Great Blasphemy