Save the Last Laugh for the Morning Hangover.

The untouchable loudness of seeing.

Past

Nothing remains,

but braided labyrinth of fragrances

and in-moving memories.

Danced the flames,

Danced its beauty and heat.

and the layers of untouchability beneath

the very touch.

The never tasted taste of the forbidden fruit,
And for the ever repeating mistake of the heart:

dot dot dot.

An unspeakable thought,
Burning my lips.

Sometimes I think,

Sometimes I am,

Sometimes I do both.

Becoming I.

I who no longer dance the shadows that crawl into my bed in the morning,

I who no longer swing chairs sitting all day in a corner….Alone

I who no longer cherish the old woman’s early morning and only greeting,

I no longer am the being human I used to be.

My Hands

I know,

As my hands hear
You thinking,
When I caress you.

I love you

In beyond the outline of your body,

In beyond the outline of my body,

In beyond the outline of our bodies,

I love you for the one body, the you-and-I.

The Land

In a dance with the land
Where the body becomes the land,
and the land becomes the body,
No longer is the purpose the reaching-the-end.
There is, no purpose,
Only the desire
to Experience,
to Transform with,
to Become.

Silence

In this crowded noise,

I long for silence,

A silence louder than any other voice.