Bees

from where I am now at home,
easy on my blue couch

I had a wisp of a thought
and at that — circles of you
spiraled and cut messages in the air

clockwise danced around dangling
pinpoint flowers holding
sips

white and white again, each petal
accompanying rush of shallow river water
talking over rock

if I had had the notion to
carry you home in a pocket,
would you have nipped at me on the way?

this is to say
I have carried you home today
and you are now no further from me
than my very breath

quantumly this is ever so

quantumly I buzz
while you fix dinner

Flow Awareness

With a shift, an inkling, concepts dropped
and I was all of my true name.
I felt etched in moving water.

I streamed me, was as water frozen,
as water falling, water drifting
as fog, as cloud.

I was mini-singular, H2O.

My two hydrogen rabbit ears
danced five different ways,
and my oxygen laughed and sang,
(what a fabulous team!)

Sundried, now as the clock struck noon,
I found my feet and stood.
I built myself of basaltic rock.

Tower of Babel–polyglot soundings
in cyclic revision spoke intelligence,
spiraling I was.

I inverted. I apt dived down
and in my transitions,
I grew rounded and hollowing.

I was Earth. I was Center.
Was Sun at Earth Center

where timeless pinpoint passages
snatched me home again.

O, boundlessness.
I have no name.

Year Ending

Altogether I was walking a familiar path,
when strangely my shoulders felt pressed embraced.
My two feet moved so fast; I felt levitated!

Along my lower spine a surge of traffic came —
particles and waves of sunlight
from the center of the earth.

HI HO! my trillions of cells exclaimed,
stretching borders of their community kingdoms.
To reach to nourish to receive it in.

This is all of why I am simply here, I think.
To stop, to sense, to listen.
Call it love.

How is it that such magic happens?
Bless this place at year’s ending.

dragon fly

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
in memory?

i see only peace all about,
your wings of splendid silver filigree

tail tilted 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?

My Morning Star

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.

Love

Did someone leave my door ajar?
Or there is no door but what I make
by asking?

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
love is.

 

first arizona rain

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
dodging drops
edges my head

all wonderments these
gracing a new summer’s day