be as the tree:
taking the carving of instance,
the ‘waste’ of breath,
and repurposing them to continue life.
Posts published in “Year: 2005”
these tears like pilgrims find way down mountains
down falls, down soil, down gutter, down tunnel, down until light becomes but illusion of mind
beyond these thoughts rests something more
something lingers there, untouched and touching, living and unalive,
something lingers there, ever lingering, ever stationed in its revolutions
something lingers there, something beyond the senses, beyond the nose
beyond the crossing of the eyes,
beyond the needle, beyond the spoon, beyond the spliff, beyond the blunt,
beyond the snort,
beyond the finger,
while being behind as well
she
is smile
in gentle rest of light
oh, to be her shadow
her watchermate
to taste the tips of falling valleys,
the ridges, the cliffs, the pits of your fingerprints;
to map with mind your outline
through tongue’s lashing/
hands finding
curve in wander of your world,
your skin,
your prickled hairs goosen’d
and uplifted in
their quest, their raised longing for,
their worship toward
these hands, these lips,
all, in servitude, now yours
feel these nerves burning,
the tips of your memories receding
from hand:into thought:into breath: from lips and:gone..
returning:they find path to cage of lung:within tongue’s wall:to
hand; in grasp unclenched,
these, your seeds uprooted now,
lay dying on suture’d paper
to wake
this walk-n-wandering world
from dream
unseen
by most..
to find perfection through imperfections, uniquities, form,
rather than..
immitations and.. moldings..
or,
perhaps,
perfection is not sought at all,
as though
perfection
were delinked and thrown from under beauty’s shadow,
to be cast as faux-demon in play of aniols..
i wish
to
c
a
t
c
h her
f
a
l
ling
how reach of mind,
singe’d on thought,
reaches for lids,
for eyes,
for brow’n’cheek,
for overflowen’d reservoir untouched:for throat,
for breath,
for words,
for lung,
for air upon wide-mouth gasping
oh, to trouth in bend of eyes,
to dampen these flamen’d roots grown inward
in heat of skin
and all those ash’ed-streams
a’burn left raging
your rays,
long, golding rays of Day’s Father,
lay tame along your bare-blushed cheeks..
oh, to grow them red, your cheeks,
to lick with kiss left lingering,
to unfold lips long chap’d
with tongue’s lashings
likened to striking-tip
of quill..
oh, how swift you lift eye from grounding,
as though through limbs this gaze is floating,
following the fall of your feet upon the carpet to
your waist of hips rounded toward the floor
and, facing cold restraint of rib with chest’s knocking loudly,
this glance becomes but moment forgot-and-known in memory