28 February 2012

To A Friend In Longing

You will meet
the earthen queen
whose feet walk in spirals toward your garden gate
Perhaps she knows this,
perhaps she does not
Her hands even now feel empty
without your core to hold
A tattered, silken scrap of the Goddess’ apron you will meet
and you -
you will go up in flames
A small ember of you will stay in her hand
a burning promise of your company along her roads
and of your eventual full-circle return
The rest of your parts will fly like startled grey doves
and perch in the clouds
There to mix with the breath of earth,
in wide blue lungs of earth
There to collect in droplets of finest you
And when you are heavy enough
with the strength of having burned completely away
you will rain yourself down in greatness of long love
You will fling yourself out of the sky, as you are able
As each part of you finds itself mirrored
in she who waited for you and burned you up,
that part of you shall surrender
It shall seek to fall
without help
without any desire to escape from tangled-ness with her,
with no notion of pride either wounded or protected
And so you will descend drop by drop
to the ice
to the snow
to the river’s source
And so you will slip into clear sweetwater lakes 
of her quenching peace
of her renewing fires
You will press yourself hard to clogged unyielding dams of struggle
with other and with self
Because you fall willingly, you will follow well
the course, the run and rapids
of a whole life’s journey 
back to sea
back to she
who will hold up her palms to catch your fresh drops of life
Back you will come to the self
first retrieved in her territories
and freed in her fire
Your reconciled self
will gratefully tumble and crash down the path
of cultivated humility
before the beloved other

27 February 2012

Sea of Hearts

Using only my hand I mix the sea
I mix it -
until just combined -
with my ulterior motives
Rolling out my mixed messages 
my subtexts my blind graspings
one by one
I drop the wet palmfuls
into the dark blue horizon that blankets our rock
Our beautiful orb-of-rock home
all swaddled in buckets and buckets
of salty salty blue sorrowing
Oh planet of tears
Oh womb of hearts that can still be bothered to beat
Oh stubborn hearts making the effort to beat 
so they may live to break another time
Think of it, your tears float in the sea I want to call mine
your tears mix shamelessly with mine 
Also -
just think of it -
they are stirred with the tears of our enemies
And finally they must blend
with even the tears of those who -
according to us -
are worse than our enemies
Oh you know who I mean
the ones who ended up with our salty hearts
but somehow they don’t notice this -
still-beating hearts loosely in their fingers or tucked in the back pocket of their jeans
Oh they leave our hearts here and there like sets of keys
What is more unseen unloved and lost
than a set of keys?
Maybe they do notice sometimes
but if they do
they notice the way they’d notice
that it’s raining again

It is raining again 
into the sea
and we can pace the shore where it’s rocky or the sand is silk
waiting at the stream mouths 
for our hearts to wash down with the flood of what we are
What we are falls into us 
and it can only fall out as tears from the centre 
of the maze of the heart
We are
secret questions never asked
not even once
uncharted urges
messy desire
and blundering, endearing hope
and we fall down together 
whether we like it 
or not

19 February 2012

What Do You Do?

you know none of this matters
especially none of these stacks of shoe boxes 
and inside, impressive shoes 
that don’t fit anyone
elevated, identity card, I-matter-dammit shoes
you know those important shoes, I’m sure you’ve met them
so fascinating so legitimate
but oh such boring shoes 
that cram your toes
rob your balance
compromise the two indefensible spots behind your knees 
slow the blood down in your legs
make you walk stupid
break your back 
they take up a lot of space
and oh how they make you pay
but they don’t matter
what matters is:
the almost-involuntary way
you let your eyes decide 
to close
to imagine
to be enough
your sword-stroke choice 
to let some light in their soft panes
so that you may be changed
now that will stir the vapors of the sky
make people feel differently
make them feel at all
that will shift us into new-wakened state
and from that point
there is no telling
how far we can go
there is no end to the crossings of our splashes
our ringing wavelets
when we each throw ourselves 
right into the water
eyes open
leaving our shoes on shore -
and the stones we might have sacrificed in our place
leave them there on the land
to hold our fear’s hand

8 February 2012

How Easy It Is

you are the rising sun
and when that’s done
well then
you’re everything else up there
portals of black
looking back

the sky
of your eye
is covered in soot of still-smoking beginnings
of course there is cloud cover 
heavens can be hindered you know
of course the pressure soars
it gets pretty hot in there doesn’t it
of course you are smeared by rains
skies cry all the damn time
of course you get pushed around inside yourself
by those winds with their endless blowing
with their axes they mean to grind down to nothing
you’re all that cushions the ground from the void
the void with its excellent appetite
the moon perches on your mountain shoulder 
you loosely hold stars in your hand like a pair of dice
and feeling them there you know how easy it is 

to hold it all up
and let it all fall

7 February 2012

Laugh Dance Laugh

laugh and dance and laugh 
until fierce resistance 
burns itself gone gone gone
leaving a pile of gentle white bones
they will calmly embrace 
the restful body of what is
laugh and dance and laugh
until hypnotic apathy 
cracks itself down the middle
yawning open into lion-jaw ferocity
it will bloom in a great shudder
of what can be held tight
no more

6 February 2012


Does a beginning so luminous
make the end an irrelevance?
Or is the end simply a given,
as clear
and long-foretold
and waste-laying 
as the gaze of your eye?
Your eye that without slightest effort 
parts the curtains of my empty stage
your eye that roams my back grounds
Your eye invading my pools of shadow
picking through my props
laying aside all the costumes 
the gorgeous and the woeful alike
Your eye lounging
on my three-legged stool of rehearsing and waiting
You with your holy eye
you already know by heart
my own lost, forgotten lines of prayer
and sometimes you care enough
to recite them back to me 
Your eye, your whisper
my ear
Watch me stutter
I freeze in amber and the grip does not melt
I pause
Because I feel it
but know not
whether this end that is walking to meet me
will kiss my cheek as it goes by
(one thing true 
to hang on to)
or only trail behind it an unending troupe of silences
with staggering faces, 
and all turned away

2 February 2012

Birthday Dance for Liz

Fly, circle upward
Your feet know the way to pull
up your soul’s anchor
But first
taste the water’s scent
Your lithe neck knows how to bend
to take what’s needful
And then
things get real simple
Your chest knows when to step in
and release its heart

1 February 2012

I Guess You Didn't Realize

Go ahead, burn me up
burn me down
burn me to ashes
If I burned as you want me to
a lot would be left anyway
You wouldn’t be rid of me
only my eyes would stop looking at you
The rest of me would still have you in sight
Think about that
Defeat means nothing to seeing
In fact it helps