After The Monastery: Finding I Am Awake (A Poem) May 18, 2010

lay in the light

new born

breath forth

your first

 

all the fists

in every world

cannot break

these promises

 

my eye is on the inner landscapes

the twilight hills are commas

road blocks

on the way to delirious heights

 

my own mental ocean

rocks so quickly on its heels

back and forth

the bells swing

bellows

lungs

dew glistening

 

recline in the diving sun

reflect back to him

his own posture of mid-summer leisure

and then arch your back

as you spring from the board of your home-thought

and fling the meddlesome down through no-thought

back into presence

the savior of words

 

then mash up your power

crumple it up like high school paper

and leave it to be swept clean

by tides and brooms

and gargantuan tongues

who are all getting double-time

so don’t worry.

 

don’t worry about love

and its many angled faces

its scales of rainbows

and water piping through air

love can take care of its own.

 

Of its own cares, which are few,

love can sing every lullaby

and can bang every morning drum

so don’t worry about love

the lawsuit is pending

but its not strong.

 

the swimming stars are recalcitrant

calling back every opinion

back by the back way

the alley highway

the single lane way

 

I wonder what my last breathe will feel like,

if I think of it at all,

or if my mind will already be aiming

its thousand cannons

its fingers to the sky

 

never an accusation could I muster

never a foul trap could I construct

in the workshop of my soul

for You who give me life

You who gild life

You who make the rain fall.

 

I dream of faces I know

persons I share the time of days with

and this is strange

I am outside my skin

for the first time

and the society of men is gleaming

and is real

and stands in clouds of breathe

wandering in stillness

a hundred photographs

flipping into motion

held by invisible fingers

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