The House of Light

The House Of Light.

Aurora borealis. Snow blindness.
Tracer bullets in night vision.
Welders flash. Catherine wheel.
Infrared armed robbers
careening through clothelines,
over backyard fences.
Fire shadows on the walls of Plato’s cave.
Sunlight through stained glass.

Hopper’s Sun in an empty room hung in a gallery,
the sky at the bottom of the well.
Beams through a magnifying glass trained on a thorax.
Submarine beams startling something
unknown and eyeless on the ocean floor.
A lighthouse on some bleak headland.
Dust swirling in a projector beam.
Light in the narrows.

Light: the crucial component
in the equation of the scruffy
Jewish patent clerk
E=MC2.
If you multiply mass by the speed of light squared
(620 million x 620 million miles per hour)
you find the energy locked within everything.

There is enough infinity
in a grain of sand to wipe whole cities from the earth
and turn us into shadow paintings
flashbulbed onto cave walls
or the steps of a bank.
Each member of that jostling crowd,
each one is a walking H-Bomb
that girl opposite on the train,
that Little Boy, that Fat Man.

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