Nature still works!
It’s March and right on cue, there’s brilliant green everywhere,
The trees have woven beautiful new foliage for themselves.
They know it’s time,
They read the wind and earth and water,
And this is what they say, ‘We will uphold nature, will you?”
Did you know that blood smells of rust?
That our starburst mangled bodies die to awaken?
That in all the liminal space of time—
Truths unfold in ontological puzzlement,
Amazed at their own impertinence?
For what is anything amid infinity?
And where’s the space for infinity in our small is?
The renderings of visions wild,
All these data streams of forever dreams—
Will we ever truly reconfigure?
There is a silent, screaming, streaming smile—
There is a thunderous rapture building—
Just out of reach.
Walk into the whirlwind—
Glimmering sunlight liquid in the treetops,
A friendly crystal drizzle.
A huge sigh envelops the world…
Today I have no words but those arranged before.
Today darkness crawls into the crevasses of me,
Today I wish for a different me,
One not so wounded, one not me!
What right has the light to entice?
What broken vision of perfection it peddles so unashamed?
What utter lie will ‘normal’ next tell?
Your healing, it fails—
Your promises, they fail.
Your bond frays.
Your words are charred wool.
There is no sense left in our electricity.
When you slip into the void,
When you rip open to the dark,
When blood pools in your hollows,
Is it not an inevitable relief?
I wander in waste,
I shout out in haste,
I cry when I could laugh!
And reach out, still I reach out—
Words tell you that here, this is the thing,
That circumscribed within me is a something…
When you go and look,
You see a too-muchness that cannot possibly be described…
So you ask them,
Are you sure you have said the thing?
Oh yes, they exclaim,
We are right, we are what is!
You stare into your ever-shifting mindscape,
Into the indescribable deep…
And know, that words cannot follow you here!
You indulge them though—
You tell then,
Yes, you said it true!
You are right, you are what is,
Without you, the world could not be seen.
Suppose the way lay through the air?
Would you with your pink lightning wings,
Go charging across the ocean,
Straight to what you thought was the heart of the world?
The tears of cut grass smell so mellifluous!
Everything spills tears today – from me.
I imagine you at least, free—
Soaring, with those crackling wings,
Reaching at last that space of my torment;
Of my deepest longing.