for Liam Rector

In the crackling murk of static it makes

itself heard–not an echo but

the thing: creation’s roar caroming

through the universe, the auditory everafter

of cosmic birth.


Do you know sound

and light can be distinguished

only by a length of wave,

the interpretive tools of an eye, an ear?


The big bang is no theory – it’s as real

as it sounds, the distant past impervious

to argument and reproach,

implacable as starlight.


And the heart? It receives

metaphor like a red antenna

and tries to decipher meaning in poetry,

tea-lights burning in fancy shoes,

a sad guitar.









Photo by Doug Wheller