Though we shuck it, let us bless the whole wheat: it yielding the kernel and from thence the whole wheat.
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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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I was taught constellations of great men; I fancied myself some star waiting to be born; I schemed to finagle myself into some unique being so as to see myself in the night sky. I did not see my own sun; I was already unique with nothing to wait for to be.
Godot
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Man’s nature is to misunderstand his nature. Consciousness arises from unconsciousness; it identifies itself as separate from it; unconscious embraces consciousness, loves it as its child, and considers it as part of it. Mother smothers child; child cuts itself off from mother; child turns King and mother queen; husband bows to understanding wife; wife yields to being known. Thus they fold into one another: a continuous creation, child of God.
Œdipus Complex
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Those times, down in the mouth, moping around, the sun, unabashed magnificence, glory-bound, bouquet spread over clouds and water-ways, transfixes and, but how, with all my shambles, it shines on me.
Transit
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