Poem: The Wonder of Bloom

(for Goo, for Meredith, for Brian)

God’s voice in a Goo
of you and all the silent dreams
streaming in the daylight
of fruity breath, the slap 
of clean spit upon your face
God’s daily baptisms
washing the rinds
ampling the neverminds
plying prayers deep into the deepest
bones, showing the wonder
of bloom, the quiet task 
of knelling the gleam
of God’s gooey eyes:
kneel, child, to the child’s
breath in your heart’s beam –
“please, tell me your second name” –
linguists of theological see-saw
get so all fusty-bother when
the clash of gooey God sez simply,
here, now, it’s not so hard,
mine’s the calculus of a hand 
seeing all there is to see,
fingers gauging out the tireless
stream, the fires of angel wings
bluing the skies above us,
bluing the gooey God in your heart
she the gift that tells all 
and wends the labyrinths 
of veriest wonder.