Fat drops falling,
Thunder promising more,
Trees groaning ecstasy,
Wild caressing wind,
Mouth gulping freshness,
Death, a trick of the light,
as the shell cracks
and the abyss promises,
but never delivers,
All gone me, but now me and now no me.
I breathes me waking and sleeping
the imaging eye, I.
Light has no rest mass.
Let it dance so that mass may …
If the wound is where the light enters
embrace dissolution, have a crack up!
Let the pieces fall where they may,
they are snowflakes.
There is no door,
we move back and forth freely
It’s fear that seeds a portal.
Fear not, you have nothing to lose.
You dead and alive wonder!
I love the way this poem captures the surrender that produces and constitutes great poetry – the dissolution of the self into the immensity of existence. A poem that captures that poetry, like a butterfly, in a net of words.
And it was at that age … Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don’t know how or when,
no they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.
I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.
And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
likeness, image of
felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke loose on the wind.
Red rocks. Dark water. Big sky.
Rough sand, damp… cradling me…
…and oh! the Sun.
Flesh evaporate, this me is vast.
Senses: mine and not mine,
a trickle of sweat.
Hnnnn, Hnnnn. Bzzzt!
Dancing feet bring hints of definition…
…fastidious fly indeed to choose that silken patch of skin.
I watch in close up…the piercing,
feel the drawing forth…
Drink, marchfly, drink…
… I overflow.
And afterwards, the flesh unblemished, still.