Thursday Morning: 7:02

Poems drift out of me

Like islands form in an ocean

Of infinite space

A sea of creativity

Into which others dip & swim

& nourish themselves & my selves

Some grow shady trees

On which fruit hangs, juicy & nurturing

Some grow worn tracks where thoughts

Have gone round around, grooving the land

To grow themselves

Some are parks for picnics & play.

What a life that gives me gifts such as these:

What a life that has offered me love

At a late age; love I’ve wished for forever

Even now, rare as unicorns, ephemeral as double rainbows

Even now made of prayer & songs of morning.

I pick up the threads once again

To knit? To sew? I have no ideas

Beyond my hands having something in them

With which to work a working

Towards magic? Towards love?

How can I tell, for all is such

In this life:

“Everything is holy now:” *

Don’t bring me figs; I do not care for dates

Don’t bring me excuses; live up to your own dreams

Don’t put anything dead at my feet for me to prepare to food.

I cannot tell you what I want

For if you don’t know by now, you never will.

Life is made of one continuing surprise, after all

What you bring forth today

Bears fruit on the morrow

As one day passes,

Another  lines up in its place

Like some cosmic Stairmaster of before & after.

Exercising the soul.

Filling in the blanks I didn’t know were there

Frightening small dogs with my heavy tread

Still, it is only me

Shrugging on a jacket

Or pulling off my shoes

Or climbing on top of you on the couch

To stretch my body around you

To make a wish for a dream

Worth dreaming

To engage with my age

In eager enjoyment/enjoinment

To taste & test & touch

To yearn into & tease away

And all of all, to love.

Who has time to live a conventional life?

Or the inclination?

Not when there are worlds & words to

Uncover, discover, recover

To render into small bites

For chewing: a cud of circumstance & dream

An element mixing surface & inner elements

A deep’ning dwelling of hope & holiness

The place where these meet & rebalance

All of who I am

That I walk forward in this world

That I take your hand in intimate delight

That I bring my smile to you

That I offer the who of I am

For your love.

A hobbyhorse on a carousel

Colorful & gilded in morning

A turning of around; an eternal wheel

Whereupon the world may never change

Yet the universe is shifting from up to down

From rote to miracle

From beginning to ending

All upon a calliope.

Circus music, mustang mortality,

Bright lights, small encounters

Bought & sold, given & retaken

An afternoon’s delight

A morning’s withdrawal into coffee & comeuppance.

O bring me no resolutions, no fake news

Restrain your anger, suck it back inside of you

I have no use for it, no space in my life

Where that fits: your angry logic…

Allow me my miracles

Stand down or look away

For I am dancing to the tune

Of my own being, a cosmic ballet,

A giggling shimmy

A vest of fringe over clown clothes

I am whomever you make me to be

While you have nothing at all to do with it…

*

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