Earth sings

In the garden

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In the garden

rags and broken bits,

trailing paper ribbons,

shards and excrement,

weave a picture, a scene

a thumb reel of protected vision.

The garden grows

though abandoned by light

and conscious thought.

Tangles give way to magical gates.

Imaginary flowers bloom,

twist absurd

mangling shapes,

evoke scents

unknowable in common categories.

Once the garden was ripe and lush,

fed legions,

earned prizes in the canons

of great literature.

If other gardens vied in performance,

it was for the grander glory of gardenhood.

Abundance

Lovers trysting

Children's play

Old philosophers walking,

speaking deliberately, deeply,

breathing in heaven.

A garden of substance,

tradition and grace

where sore of heart might

find tender comfort, growing wild

in sweet evening breeze,

a calming call to prayer,

mending meditation

on the ways of Earth and sky and rain.

Walking the garden,

old, papery, withered of breath,

dreaming yesterdays, tomorrows,

screaming silently

a hope too desperate to speak

for vibrant new seeds

to take root.

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Back to Basics

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Walking backwards, over the cracks, the broken glass, the crying shame.

Looking in and out.  All the hostile visions I never want to see

damning me.

They say to give is blessed, when in doubt give it all away.

I say

we are each a universe, so many worlds, so many stars

we lose track

we look back

whoosh into the vastness of possible trajectories.

Without crossroads, without stones of demarcation,

we would fall upwards eternally.

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I am digging a well,

a holding place for tears.

When the hole is of the right proportions

I will fashion a tight container of stone and clay.

The excavation uncovers rotten cadavers, old bones

twisted from unhealed violations, bits of broken treasures,

shattered expectations,

here and there

pieces of nursery toys no longer loved.

I crawl through the earth, exulting in sensuous pleasure.

Moving like a snake at home in the elements,

shedding my skin, becoming silky sinuous sense cells.

It is so beautiful here, under it all.

Fertile soil, made of the cast off, the ruined, the dead.

Seeds try again to perfect the expression of dna.

It would all fall together naturally.

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But nature did not make me.

It was self-flagellating nurturance of worlds and stars

trying to cast off their earthly heritage.

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Sacred Geology

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Rich earth.

Consecrated life.

Imbued myriad layers

nourish omniscient spirit.

Starvations, immolations, decay

scarred into the land

making it holy.

Bounty of beauty

irrigated by tears

and less voluntary bodily fluids.

Teeming loam. Revitalizing

luscious fruits

giving forward.

Partaking of the feast

we are blessed,

renewed in empyreal essence.

Each at our pace,

nature’s cycle reclaims

all that we are

that we may become

yet more abundantly, complexly ()

layered.

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Eclipse Dream

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Jump!  Jittery.  Nauseous claustrophobia . . .

l e t t i n g  g o  s  l  o  o  o  w

Whoosh leap faster than my breath can catch me.

Dizzily, half-blinded, out of focus,

slant view along tree-strewn path.

Enchanted forest?

Smoke curling upward.

Gingerbread cottage in the woods.

Do I rest here, recoup my losses?

Savory soup simmers over tender hearth fire.

Shadow gloom occludes unswept corners.

Yet the center of the room

is surprisingly clean, radiant.

I sit, mantra embraced.

Nestled by magestic silk wings.

Outside winter is falling.

When I awaken from my trance

planting season will begin.

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The wild rains of spring

have caught me napping.

They catch me up in torrents,

swing me along,

a cradle in the sea.

I descry mazes,

wondrous pageantry

woven into  stellar stories.

Celestial spray anoints me.

I commence secret ceremony,

believing the Earth to be my home.

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Earth Angels

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Speciesism.

That boorish arrogance.

Deaf to wisdom, portrayed in

ominous myth, faery lore.

Slay the goose;

destroy the whales.

Uproot untold trees

bearing fruits that may have

saved us staggering pain.

Crucial for well-being

microbes, photosynthesis,

symbiotic

processes ignored, misunderstood.

Focus expended on ephemeral

opinion, petty greeds and rivalries,

diatribes on evil and good.

Realities we have yet to account to,

acknowledge,

fall, collateral damage

to insolent bravado.

When will we ever let go,

rethink this mad master plan,

relinquish need to command?

 

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Risen

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Sky born, lifted above

Water, Earth, primordial mud.

Bare breath and lilting light waft up, carry ephemeral

tongues, frenzied yet exquisite. Exaltation, daring

to swoop, touch, climb, pirouette.

Path briefly complete in hover, amazed over

flowering waves.

Winter Gods freeze-glaze mountain peaks,

rocky rivers, mother's eyes.

She gives suck embalmed in vision trails,

engulfed in smoke of smelting flame,

gasping, tropically turning, blind, yet

beyond mistrust.  She regurgitates paste of

air, dust, instinct, steeped with spit

and love.  Taste her sacrifice.

A world drifts.  Black night backlit in

pinpricks.  Atmosphere composed like bioluminescence,

symphonic, symbiotic.  Listen as rippling elements

grow words, symbolic histories, into a Summer game.

Out here, sparkling rain weaves rainbows.  Reverence

casts poetry as shimmer and shadow play.

Up here, beyond boundaries of ordinary days,

the only Commandment to penetrate --

Be Peace

 

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Eco-Location

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It’s not the landscape, but the ambiance.

Emanant surroundings suggest fantasy motif.

Just that evocative forest green, desert rose.

Waft of lilac, vibrations of tidal reveries,

cast off, buried.  Reclaimed, exposed.

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Gracious glory.

Terra spins through stories.

Webs of sparkle and synapse

suspend on delicate balance.

Work and love,

expression and assimilation.

Venture in search of food, air, stimulation.

Ideation, imagination, mood impels

self-aware cells, each with place

and passion.

Busy interchange

at market and field

combines power to wield, grow

beyond personal boundaries

permeable to trade, exploration,

creative generation.

Each iteration fuels further spring to

essence.

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Gaea's laughing.

Silly scrapping scavengers

groomed in self-importance

rarely see the joke.

Long has her fete entertained.

Sol to Gaea, flirting seasons, night and day.

Eons slip through alignment.

Mud to worm

to facile mind

wondering at starlight

as constellations parade

in siren mystery.

Common wisdom, basic observation.

If river, then water and silt,

mud, clay, pottery, etched hieroglyphs,

television, robotics, space aeronautics.

Rippling along sinuous riverbed

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I can smell the salty sands of yesteryear,

taste tears of copper, touch sparkling rain,

feel the lift of storms in formation

fill evening breeze with electric potential.

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