On James Rhodes

Every sinew in his arms and fingers, and every cell

are straining to create those exploding notes.

They are exalted, and let free 

into the farthest dimensions of the universe

in the splendor of that music.

The Magic of the Moment

Poetry is all about the moment.

Once the moment flees,

even the poet

can’t recall

the true essence

with which the words were crafted.

With each passing moment,

time construes a different meaning 

to the words,

just as the changing values 

of the physical constants

create a different version 

of the universe,

each time the dice are rolled.

The poet surrenders

to the whims of imagination

and hangs on

to revel in a glimpse,

to bathe in a waft, 

or be swept away by an echo.