Dawn Voice

Did you hear what the light said?
Did you hear the breeze
shake old stars out of new trees?

The Goddess speaks
and words become birds
birds become sky-
the sky becomes an auditorium
for whispers of the heart.

She runs ankle deep
through a drowsy promise.
Her voice a flicker
of small white moths.

Do you now hear Her
rolling this world around
like a drunk
inside a drop
of morning dew?

Make Me Real

I found You one day

on the tip of my tongue

on the fine hairs

of the back of my hands,

on the margin

of what can be heard and seen.

"Make Me real" You said.

"Make Me your love."

And I did.

I pulled You into me

through the flesh of my words,

through the subtle channels

of every hair on my body.

I consumed You like air.

Drank You like wine.

No scripture has written of this

but each moment

my spirit composes You.

You enter through the endless

doors and windows of being.

Sometimes You come through

the dancing molecules of self,

sometimes just as light

through a crumbling wall.

"Make Me Real" You said.

Each day our poetry

surfaces above

the skin of the world

as real as any sunrise.

Instants

You cried out

as we came together.

It is not that you come and go

but some instants

are closer than blood and flesh

closer than breath

closer than sexual union.

Sometimes I find you

on the tip of a finger

or in the plasma of being

You emerge as a part of myself

drowning in a part of You.

Some call these moments, bliss

I don't name them

but when they rage up

like sap, upwards

through the stalk of life-

when mind falls wordlessly

into Your eyes

You so expertly catch hold

of what is left.