ghazal

"slo-mo avalanche"


Time's like a slo-mo avalanche   set to crush us!
in such a lethal circumstance   do not rush us!
there's nobody on the stage   the theatre's dark now
should we enjoy a final dance   will it touch us?
the proscenium of the culture shifts to cable
if none require our elegance   do not push us
whatever we came to do remains undone   yet
we feel the hand of providence   firmly clutch us!
when falling through the air   belt out your aria!
with cosmic humor's provenance   apt to cush us
where bloom a hundred flowers   amid the gallery
you what comely inheritance   count as precious?
some vivid traditions parry   pre-fab POVs
fresh-blood outre exuberance   is propitious
we resemble   not a clean slate   a developing negative
whatever's held in imminence   will impress us
ability might not bloom   in every sessionette
we'll overcome incompetence   if you smooch us
the universe itself   presents performance art
what's tragic is when indolence   doesn't blush us
we can't hold on to anything   in this vestibule
the ocean's blue impermanence   comes to wash us
to Raphael I proffer   a candid missive
our portrait of her luminance   was too much us