That sweet, hot spirit wound up in beauty. Oh, delicate possession, to tenderly touch, to stroke, to let loose those pent-up sighs. You demand I separate the spiritual from the physical: that is my desire.
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Sonata
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My fire, my little fire, I tend, tend, tend to you. You are not ablazin’ o’er the earth, but you are enough to crackle with heat, to sustain a heart, to provide a hearth, to roast marshmallows over, to lick the ribs of embers with quiet flame, to entrance me into a reverie of my inner mysteries.
Camp
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Not that everything is good, but there is good in everything. Patience and such faith cherry–pick the tartest sweetness. That’s why Aunt Sally’s pies go right to the heart.
Cultivate
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Though we shuck it, let us bless the whole wheat: it yielding the kernel and from thence the whole wheat.
Wheat Germ
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I kneel upon your lips, hold my hand to my face, kiss my fingers, and press my little hand–kiss upon the stub tip of your upper lip.
Felt Gratitude
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I light my candle because it exists. Damn candle, brightness piercing through my tears.
Incendiary
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From star to star, from molten blob to smoldering ice, so many journeys from hot to cold to get things just right. Ah, so many fields of foliage — waves of miracle — each unfolding in their time to the sun, wave overlapping waves. When I wonder at my shoots, or fuss at how graceful my leaves, or worry how straight my tendrils, I gaze around and reflect wherein I am a part of; I am beautiful because I am a part of you.
Unfoldment
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Oh, why slug
through these miserable lessons
when I could tip–tap with joy? —
or, perhaps
that’s the lesson.On Missteps
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Those schemes: so much distraction — paper-cut smarts and then up in smoke. Life is written all over my hands. The ink: so much blood.
Rock, Paper, Scissors
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And God did so heap upon his Gifts unto Adam and Adam did become so burdened with Abundance, he sought shade from the light and did sink his teeth into nothing, of his own creation, and loved himself as creator, like God, and staked out a portion of Eden, calling himself exile, and only gave unto himself of his own hand, and wove a second skin to cover up, with shame, that his first was a gift, and when he thought of creator, he confused himself with God, and how did God love his own creation, calling it good.
And then winter came
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