Breathe, Bonsai

Pure life unmarred
Yearning toward earth and sky
On a course within thee planned
‘Til comes Gardn’er’s “improving” hand
To guide with clip and tie
Thy growth from nature far

Twisted, pruned to graceful skew
To please an outward eye
As thou toward its alien beauty grew
Each clipped piece fell to die

Each piece thought extra, swept away
‘pon rubbish heap to wither, fast forgot
Does thy true beauty ever more betray
While gard’ner looks on, smiles
and knows not

Oh brother, would that I were more like thee
And knew the secret thou must surely know
To shade thyself in wisdom’s alchemy
To bend each new distortion to thy flow
To accept each snip unflinchingly
To purely live thy creed of “Grow! Just Grow!”

But I, a man, am made a different way
To feel each time the clippers slice my flesh
To pine my lost and waylaid self’s true shape
And feel my own in every clipping’s death

What choices for a man in such a state?
Lie back, go numb, become the clippers’ prey?
Fill himself with rancid, bubbling hate?
Flee only to be clipped in some new way?
Or to become a tiger on a leash
and watch for chance to rend the cutting arm
Then, lips blood-flecked, reclaim his wild gait
Gloriously remorseless of all harm?

These the ways of animals and fools
For while men or weather force my boughs to bend
I’m yet subject to their fickle tyranny
While on their mercy, happiness depends
‘Tis delusion to count myself as free
So let me breathe beyond all pruner’s tools
For shears can touch not I-Am’s boundless tree.
Breathe in breathe out, and breathing thus transcend
Exploding as raw serpent energy


On The True Tongue

I apprehend time 
too well
to grasp as it passes
as drop-leaf rhyme.
Its insubstance, subtle and sublime,
all crevasses

and between
warm flesh and 
swells cells with lust
to make more like themselves 
and thrust
their unitedly divided 
fate's' fruition 
unto it 
and us.

Know you now this:
We come 
both in and out-
sides, swaddled in gasps,
a writhing, shiver-fount.
You came this way
the first time.
You'll depart,
and come so again
into the lush wet grasp
of earth and wave's
verdant morass,
heels over head,
by mortal coil’s unrelenting mount
clutching desperately astraddle
bereft of bit, bridal,
stirrup, rein, saddle
Until to ride it through
so gently as to break
what seems
can ever-further bend,
to remerge with all,
and never more 

When first you were delivered thus
what did you smell
b’low the sky,
atop dew,
(who's swallowing is,
for sustenance,
water just enough)
still glazed warm
with your own precious liquid,
gestation’s heirloom inner ocean
mammalian womb-infusion, residue
of sacred lotion:
life's most holy stuff...?

Taste you,
the first time,

The moist
exhalations of

The hard,
min'ril musk of

The stars

in stretched-honey filaments
to flood
the hidden
of your

(...for know also this:
seeing out must always
invite ent'ring 

your diaphanous tunnels,
of slow flowing,
swole-sunken runnels,
probing illumination
of pink secrets
exploring ever more ways
your deepest-dwelling lucubration,
to lay bare 
where solid stillness stirs within...)

As yet unmarred by hearsay
-free and open to
open and free-
no interpreter
smiling fey
to “translate” words
and from them meaning peel,
describing what,
when but parted,
and lips

Our language then
was summer-lucid-shimm’ring:
falcon after down-ed dove down dove.
Each careful-touch
a gravid word
(by those inured
prodigally disavowed
for sounds that vainly strove
to mean a thing
let alone as much)

Hear now! The true tongue enters!
Sends syllabian silence 
licking after light
of honest bliss
through ear, eye, nose
every orifice
Red scent of Jacinth
in flight
The smoothness of clay
Marsh-garden’s minute snail
Tidal Goblet
of Sea’s green mead
Your body's own sweet 
redolent sweat
All effusions crying “!!LIFE!!”, they
in meaning
what they, wordless,

Sun Eros Tao Circle

Sun-moon-star footed,
 Universe burst self-birthed, behind thine eye.
 Fingers licked flames inside thee deeply rooted
 Felt comet trails, across thy bare skin sky

My wild eye nose-led me toward that fire.
 For true, like Puck, I am a roguish elf
 Thou dryad, we know this world’s most wise desire
 Is all our senses call desire itself

This olibanum flesh which wraps us, mi Consuelo,
 has been, ten billion years before, a star
 which stretched herself through time to be remembered,
 preserved perfect, though perfectly dismembered,
 in remnants of her dying light flung-far…

…Coalesced to build thine eye, to sheath her co(u)sun,
 Drank fertile photon seed, ‘came pregnant, and
 ecstasy, awe, and worship, of what we truly are
 delivered on thy skin, what forms our core:
 Th’ancestral star, self-unmade, to make thee, 
make heaven’s bodies mark thy mortal sand
 She, goddess-born, reshaped herself to shape thee, 
and thus reshaping, made herself more grand

Resplendent woman, sun-moon-star enchanted
 felt comets finger-traced, thy skies to please
 fingers touched what’s deep inside thee planted
 And touching, mingled split divinities

Note: I wrote it in Oct 2000 for a beautiful Italian girl I knew named Consuelo. 
It's inspired by a small tattoo of celestial bodies she had on her foot.

Cleaning Apple Juice From Your Prayer Rug

Your juice was warmed by the heat of my hand
on the slim, bountiful, concavity of its source.
Need for moisture shook you, a thirst like desert sands’
for reviving river’s wet returning course,

-made slip your grip, and doused your upper thighs
in the luscious, fragrant juice, even your glorious
little rug was soaked, for the bowl’d been full brim-wise
“Sit”, said I “absorbtion’s labor I don’t find laborious”

Took I sponge, to wield as ‘twere my tongue
and sop all trace from the woolly strands it hid among
parted, probed each fiber, pressed padding as I strove
To serve you for joint sake of lust and love

“Chooser to Beggar” or “Common Pets as Celestial Similies”

Far-flung silken cord to noose transformed.
the neck of Heaven stretched above it’s bloated
body – soul starved distended form,
self inflicted, like a pampered cat who can’t be goaded
To ingest a sparrow, but waits for fowl more fine
And licks it’s threadbare coat to pass the time
While hell lets nothing tainted go off-caste
And dog-like, gluts its polyglot repast