She Lives In And Is Made Of

May 23, 2010

She lives in and is made of…

Rushing amber windmills,
black retrievers carrying golden fleeces
in their mouths,
paws made of diamonds
splashing in lava pools,
exhaustion winking Saturn’s rings
to slip off,
out of marriages and into Just Now,

Perfection pleading with amethyst oozing
from its lips, ears, eyes, navel and sex,
reaching into the meadows oscillating
in the darkness of breezes felt alongside
undone dreams, refinished wishes
and reincarnated handprints upon laughing
camphor elated faces turned upwards
and rolling dice with heartbeats
licking Death’s face clean,

Home,
melon beds,
captive tree house outlines,

Spirit flows through,
anointment and searching
to cry into a pale,
blue ointment-moon,

Beams silvery
and slippery serpents asleep
near warm-thermos-limestone slabs,
baskets of bats in love with that Knight
who could have pulled the sword out,
though did not,
because the enraptured stone loved
the captivating blade,

Room,

Woven sunflowers
breathe her walls yellow,
licorice welcome mats
beg the intruder to cease staring,
reconsider the holy
and dissolve into white vapor,
liquid oak tannins…

She is what Majestic envelopes,

Then,
footsteps,
a lover
and a fork that will not eat,

A landscape,
crystal domes upturned
and gathering handshakes
within their pulse,

Solar-system-goodbyes
to lay to rest Hello,
the migration of chill bumps
from ankle to neck,
the moment from Here to There
and an awe about a touch,

The silence,
how secret fruit hangs
in the bright light of a day
where no one has been,
how the tortoise lifts its neck
and swoons in the glow,
in the prospects of Gravity and Time
letting it up there
go,

Letting it come down
to the earthen settlement,
letting it dent a little
Appetite’s green plate,
immersing itself gently
in the sponge-kites flying
in its stomach
and roll itself into the gracefulness
That Is
covered over
by a such a shell as its,

That within its downturned dome,
its wisdom is always letting go
of Welcomes and Goodbyes,

Wondrous-enchanted-necklace of You,
feasting meadow reaching to the comets,
tufts moving
when the eyes etch Sleep upon
what cotton printing presses do,
the feathered Set-free
and the ease of God’s passport.