I’d rather say the
gentle white blooms
are phantoms. But

void has as
much spirit
as air.

We sought God,
but in inquisition,
found his corpse.  

Blue and red swirls frozen in a pipe.
Shaped like a curvy exclamation,
fresh red green grass the point.

I kiss cool glass, dazzling spark and
blue embers embrace eager herb. Heat
glows gold.  Halted coughs.   

Two smoke streams delicately drift in
open air, lofty gray Chinese dragons,
benevolently bending, sage eyes cleansed

of malice by regarded centuries passing  
like red rows of ants, each secure of
significance, the serpents languidly loop through

black infinity, world wandering, curving in
constellations,delighting delving deviating but..
Another dazzling spark.