Walter Bargen Heaven's Open Face

No one sees the sidewalk break

into burnt waves on the dry surf

of an inland coast, the crashing spasms,

the dolphin-leaping earth

and billowing splash of dust.


How space enters between things

that didn’t know space,

volumes pouring into minds

that were thinking other

smaller thoughts, then the shiver

that erupts into nothing.


A stratified sky of concrete

falling upward,

then down again, impacting

with the heavy one-syllable voice

of immutable objects.


Glass confetti

of tall windows glitters

over smoldering cars.

The windshields a sharp sleet

that won’t melt off the faces


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