Serpent Semblance

All of these poisonous snakes creeping out of my waters with the weight of wet tree trunks. Some go unseen but others I notice and ask them where they come from; their hissing reply always cruelly the same: “We are you, we are you,”

In defiance I strangle them angrily, painfully.

When I awake, hungover with emotion, I scan a reptile-absent horizon and to my horror I find my own hands wringing my neck, “It was not me, it was not me,” I cry softly to myself.

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The Steps of Soil Formation

I’m stuck,

A stone thrown in my vocal river,

As a double-sided being with courses of cortisol and skin kissed with goat’s milk,

I never did get to know her until the skies were cleared of their wild whipped butter,

The insulation was warmly welcomed but eventually cooled off and became contradictory,

Freezing solid from the bottom up,

Life became static and limbs impossible to grow, so,

The Earth seemed to be punishing us,

But that effortless bright being was hard to shake,

And a force within kept flashing vascular visions,

A truth beyond the crowded streets,

Of noises, of beeps, of self-seeking creeps,

I wandered through grooves of polite patterns,

To pierce pomelo rind rigid with Saturn,

Seeds sown stiff now relaxed hieroglyphs,

Releasing sweet basil,

Paving routes with roots.

 

 

Collective One

At home, in your zone,
Snuggling softly simply for joy,
Minute to minute,
Day to day, in the delicate presence of being.

A strong sense of self,
Wilting forward to dip into sunlight,
Forgetting voids of helplessness,
Out of control, appearing like death.

You sit there motionless,
To soak and nourish like cucumber,
Fresh and crisp, an easy beginning,
How cold is it to start again, you wonder.

The invisible visibly haunts those rigid,
Stiff hands grope desperately,
Injuring fellow travelers,
Why are they here too, you wonder.

Above Me

The pelting gems of superior melt silence abruptly,
Yet also with such tenderness I could have sworn it was my own heartbeat.
Voices poke through the dark sheet of stillness,
Pausing only for the acceptance of my own presence,
They remind me what I already know.

It’s as if I can see my life in fast forward,
But what is up is also down with round bits escaping the abyss,
Hesitating only to look back in soft remembrance,
Even the pain was right. Especially the pain was life.

The rise in light lifting up what already felt right,
What already felt home,
What already felt bold.

I am not sorry for your confusion,
I am sorry you do not know yourself,
And care more about your interpretation of me.

Ah, what a relief! I no longer hold you above me.

Your “Simple” Suggestions

Your “simple” suggestions, as you like to call them, fall around me,
They drift softly to the ground and melt before my feet,
My aura illuminates the hostile home in which you hoped I’d freeze.
To death.

All was supposed:
That which cared for,
That which loved,
That which only was doing the best for.

Now I feel the ice crackling under my weight as I march into the night,
Staring at the wild wind whipping rouge,
The bright-eyed glimmer stealing full moon powers,
Gripping mittens release their hold,
Venturing further into the mystic,
Encountering an awe of both delight & peace.

The sticking snow reveals paths taken,
Of light & dark,
Love & pain,
Young & old.

But “simply” suggesting I know nothing shows the nothing you so simply desire,
For never have you sought to understand anything but what you hoped to find.

Changes

The petals have lost their touch,
Soft hardness & thick,
Velvet leather & earth scented,
The kind face turned away,
Whispering webs stretching across the unused,
The unaccepted abruptly vented,

But somewhere simply seemed too much,
And a time was tempting,
And now tea is too much.
The sitting & clinking,
The staring & thinking,
Creaking chairs while sweet disappears,
A milky insight in the dim light.
Then two fall away to find hindsight,
Only a memory.