Suddenly, the reader finds herself in the midst of a universe that peels back its skin to reveal its living core.
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The rain has come. The wind fills with rain and my brother’s door was left open.
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smitten by night,
be not a darkened window
to housekeepers trembling & bowed
the salient, untraceable beginnings
where worship rises within the riddles
and bulbs defy the cold dark.
Of course the inn is full.
No one believed You had eloped,
and You dare not tell the truth.
Nerves of not-so-young not-quite-lovers
sing still with nicotine twitch,
so signpost obvious in early evening.
each night has its particular music.
state of mind is fluid.
landscapes are multivisional.
you have eyes in the back of your many heads.
As we sail through the “hour of revelation” we discover a “sonar alphabet” and “two language reservoirs.” (What does your alphabet sing like?)
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a partial mission evolves, the familiar
is made partisan, approaching
the divine undressing of
the surrender to a riddle.
She cross-dressed and crossed-over, stuck her hand into a world and kept her mouth shut.
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There is a flag on fire and amazing grace
I love you rage
I hate you face
Rapture is our native tongue.
Words, the rungs we climb
from the cleft of our longings
to the free fall of innocence.