She Is Flat…”Oops,” said the scientist.

Pancakes for breakfast,

resting, spreading on oil.


What if scientists recanted?

What if the sphere was a sham?

What if science was ashamed?


She is flat after all

and done on one side for sure.

A solar flare spatula slides under.

Talk about turning the world upside down.


I wonder who would live on the edge

and dangle their feet in the deep blue ocean?

I know some people who are afraid of heights

and some who are afraid of depths.


Vincent stepped off into the starry night.

Einstein’s theory was thrown like a Frisbee.

Apollo 13 had another problem for Houston.

Mark Heard’s Satellite Skies wouldn’t be.

Grass would always be greener on the other side of the universe.


Spherical, severe it all is.

Earth, like a curve ball, draws circles around the sun.

Our linear conscience rides its precipice free epidermis.

Gravity keeps us grounded.

Gravity keeps us orbiting subconsciously.


I would rather be pulled than flipped.

Psalm 19:1-6

Window Of Time: Early Morning. A Poem

Like a sash it opens just enough

to let the mist saunter down and in.


This morning breaks and the valley

receives its due covering.


A hovering of this evanescent spirit,

spread in and though the crowd.


Diverse fog splitters rising toward

the heavens, trees reaching for the sky.


I wish I were 200 feet tall.

I would kick the midget clouds


and brush my open palms

along the crown of oaks.


I would lay in the meadow

and make fog angels.


I would summon as much childhood

imagination as I could and play a while.



And I wonder if God would be sitting on a bench, watching, smiling at the childlike freedom.

Emily Woke Me. The moon and stars were still awake.

Emily woke me at 1:12.

She walked the line

from her bed to mine

and I tucked her one more time.


At 1:17 I saw the moon

in the western sky

a sweet potato pie.

Once slice, low upon a rhyme.


A dipper as big as forever

over my head like a caption.

Stars were a splashin’

into my soul and onto the pines.


1:34 was when I lay me down again.

Goodnight moon was all I said.

I prayed twinkled stars on her head.

So thankful for how she shines.


And God Created Metaphors for Children–And Adults Can Tag Along.

Could the moon be a peep-hole?

Could the sun be a spot light?

Could the stars be pinpricks of the eternal?


Could the ocean be shedding tears?

Could the tides be inflections in a voice?

Could the waves be ballroom dancing?


Could the mountains be a la mode?

Could the foothills be out for a stroll?

Could the valleys be hoarding  echoes?


Could I tag along child, and wonder around with you?

Could you share your imagination with me?

Could we see if God brought something for show and tell?