There has been no end to my exhale,
flowering emptiness fills me infinitely.
Subsurface tides of me rush recede and on my surfaces
waters winds in beautiful tandem leap form
With in-breath I am pretending at being born,
with out-breath I am pretending at dying.
(I know — the I of me
was never born and shall never die)
When I am silent to the very bone,
beyond myself, my edges blurring and free,
what choruses now, what string, what flute notes drum
who is it who sings to and through me?
Have I known you? Why this gift?
Your fiery breath exhales into me.
When life and love breathed exactly into this world,
and I became here, were you beside me then?
What faces were my face
before I was born?
a tick of your distant heart
and for me the wheels go spinning
golden spires in evening breeze dip
and you, gripping, reach to the river
what do you see
with your hunting eyes?
what tastes come
i see only peace all about,
your wings of splendid silver filigree
tail tilted up to the setting sun
many suns within your heart of hearts
do you know i forever run toward you
and to all your dragon friends
do you feel me smiling laughing
my joy my welcome?
You see every bit of me, my morning star.
You pour life to me, no matter what.
I need not ask.
I open to receive.
Turn the bucket of me
right side up.
When you fill me with your golden fire,
you bend my edges wide and this
is my ecstasy.
I pause, breathe, and grow into my new skin.
Is there no end to this?
One part of me cries out–please stop!
Another part sings all glory.
Did someone leave my door ajar?
Or there is no door but what I make
Light has left me messages, as questions
such as these, and I have nibbled.
This morning rather I gobble.
I take my cue from my dog
who seizes moments.
This morning I have eaten all the bait.
Hook line and sinker.
Where there are no doors, cracks forever are.
Wherever there are slippings
and mighty shifts
I have awakened to a land called Hu.
I fling my senses in any direction and love sings.
Green and living I am
and with greening things
I am friend.
I cry out–not publicly, but demure,
concealed and voicing
How is that the air has become so crowded?
Spirit fills balloons as large as the sun.
I am not breathing this
All breathes and all sings
and this is where I am.
lingering long under a rising moon
with evening here
i stood guard over the solitude of you
and you for me the same
when tests had come to break us
when doubt had dived us deep
spinning us with utter nonsense
when the hearts of inner suns
seemed blackened and snuffed
and salt tears of souls poured
even then, universes turned and turned
rushing headlong before us
a scattering of doves
that you and i would
truly listen to one another
in a common language
fixed to silence so dear
at home in solitudes
leaning from apartment rail
out from dry haven of a slant roof run
my fingers palms cups overflow full
and i imagine
tiny fractal mouths all
in a pine tree nearest me
bundles of green frond tips
opening to first arizona rain
later, at my returning
the afternoon sun appears
shadowed in a cloud break
every water slick
green of pine
casts ornamental silver
and one hummingbird
edges my head
all wonderments these
gracing a new summer’s day