On The Path

Glitter paint gold
The pebbles and call them nuggets.
Toss them in,
Then wait.
See them: a diluted recipe
Of foreign angels traipsing
About their sunny business.

Hard to grasp?
Even harder to hold.

Subterranean are my thoughts,
Lost in the current.
Lambent fish floating through
A pool of cold will school together
Let them flow.
Quietly now.
There they are.
Just below the surface.
I must be swift.

These cheapened muses
Turned out near-mint from Heaven
Will ferment in my hand.
In the tips of the phalanges.
I will strike the page like
Phosphorous in a lonely cavern.
Then, we will see.
We will see.