It is you I skip to with an unconscious beat
In my heart, my head, my being.
When I can longer skip, but trip over dead logs,
It is you I call out to with unconscious words
To save me from the sting of dried wood scraped
On my knees, my palms, and my cheeks.
It is me you find on the bench waiting for my name to be called,
Bent over, sick from all garbage or sitting straight, hands tucked
Under my thighs, smiling at how a bird soars, no movement of wings.
I watch it land next to me and cock its head about in the same silent
Rhythm I heard when I skipped to your house missing all the cracks.
Someone asked me if I ever wrote a love poem.
I said if I ever wrote to you it was always a love poem.
Maybe they didn’t get how I wrote them; it wasn’t
Always with love. Sometimes it hit me over the head,
And I wrote how much hurt it caused. Now they know.
I am the devil
No, I am the devil and you are my muse.
And he danced to a beathless beat.
I am dead.
No, I am death and you are my breath.
And she danced to invisible heat.
I am life.
No, I am love and you are my heart
I am an angel
No, I am dressed in black
And they danced in a moonless street
It was the coffee that made my stomach turn reflecting my life upside down.
I ask myself how did I get here and I can see their evil grins smiling at the sex
With their hands over the cardboard backdrop meant to be the stage moving
Puppets around, tangling the strings making the marionette dance and sing
Like they wanted her to because their long arms could reach that far out
Past the audience, out the door, out in the street to the corner drugstore
Where she would ask for something to make the pain go away and they’d
Smile their sinister grins again, throw out the candy in open fields of blue
Oceans and dogs frolicking, saying go get it, watch her bend over searching.
With his uncombed wiry hair and little tongue lopped to the side
he jumped and he jumped and he ran and he ran like a crazy
hellion on wheels going to race the wind on a calm full moon night.
Hey there little guy, I said, as he flew on by me wondering how tasty
my apple pie would be, waiting for me, when we got home sweet home.
But my little dog didn’t wait for me as he ran and ran and jumped into the night.
I lost him I thought. This is it. He finally caught up with that invisible wind.
I looked all around, at the park, at the playground, behind the alley and then
I looked up, ready to ask a favor from his guardian angel when what did my eyes
See? But my little wiry, happy tongued dog up dancing on the top of a round full moon.
He looked down at me, skipping and hopping and wagging his tail, gave a few yaps at me.
I heard him clear as that full moon night say, Come on up, silly person, it’s happy up here.
I thought how could this be? I looked down at the ground where I just buried him full of tears.
I said back to him, It’s okay little guy. You keep dancing. I’ll catch you at the next full moon.
I want to know what it’s like to taste the fourth world taste,
The middle of two, the divided line of what is You, yes
it means You, the You who wonders the Being of Me.
I want to know You who wonders all about Me.
I want to know what it’s like to taste the line
between your halves, to lick what is inside of you.
Yes, I said it, and You heard me right. No need to
repeat it late into the night. I will do you like
no other before the sun rises, make you clean
and repent all that you’ve believed what can’t be true
Say No. Say No Tomorrow when the sun leaks
its silky truth on all that is shining fully spent.
Spirits soar through the air, invisibly claiming unrivaled power of light
spread a billion miles into space to kiss stars, all of them in the seconds
the pallbearers reach the dead’s destination and a baby’s head for air.
They comfort me, wrap around me like a warm blanket, usher me through
the revolving doors flapping, flapping always flapping. Hear it. Take a step in.
Move around my pied-off section, around this little piece of earth, grounded,
pushing against the clear heavy glass. Take a look around, round and round.
Step off, stand still, listen to them soar, listen to their silent grace filling space.
Jet engines line up for take-off ready to race against timeless wings; they will not win.
She’s full of maggots, not worth eating,*
Spinning round on the spindle
Which way is north?
Is she perfectly round?
Yes, she is. Beautiful. Full and complete,
Keeps giving and taking around the sun.
She is as beautiful as the sun so bright.
And when the maggots reach her head
She’ll show you how the moon rises
Through the trees and over mountains.
Stand still and watch birds fly.
Sit next to the vines, watch her grow.
The maggots made whales deaf.
They died singing her song.
The wind echoes it now and then.
Did you hear it?
Was it as beautiful as She?
*lifted from the movie version of The Hobbit
Swings one way then the other
giving sound to thoughts of what
is in the world, so wrong, so right.
What I believe, what I want is
Understanding, compassion, respect
for what is not human
yet I only end up
understanding the other side;
Humanity at its worst.
So I send them my love,
that someday they too will feel
the same things I do when the axes
fall on innocent
on life-giving plants,
on oceans that keep giving.