Ginny Lowe Connors

on the infinitude of the universe

after Jackson Pollock’s Convergence

millions of suns, their flares, storms, gases streaming out
orbits and swerves, explosions, streaks
of comets, their long tails of dust
and then the pull of black holes
more terrifying than any addiction
I’m a micro-speck in this combustible
ever-expanding wowness

and the music of the galaxies—
I swear I heard it one night
after fireflies extinguished their lights
o, it rocks me, all of it

colors hurtling within and beyond
the way they spark, flash, and disappear
in some small way I’m part of it
this unfathomable wildness

I want to reach out, take in the dark matter
and the light traveling through, beyond
my perception, but when I try to grasp
the infinitude of the universe
it’s chaos
until I go deep, deep, deeper
into the great silence

Talisman for Spiritual Protection

it wasn’t the fish that mattered
catching them, I mean
it was the gentle rocking of the boat
it was the sun coming up, that slant of light
whispering across the summer morning
it was mist lifting slowly from the water
my brother carving chunks of cantaloupe
offering me bites from the tip of his knife
it was the presence of my grandfather
large and genial, someone so solid
I knew nothing could harm us
it was the low, laughing warble of loons
and the way they’d dive, disappear
surfacing long minutes later
in some unexpected place

there is no paradise beyond this world
even so, someone has decided
to launch more bombs
and someone else has agreed to it
suffering and grief are guaranteed
I know that now
and yet how fortunate are those, like me
who carry within them some little piece of heaven
a sweet summer morning
that returns again from the deep
a reminder, unlost
of the way the world can be