Let the rude earth warm me
Let me peace shake,
Let my time here spend
Centimeters above.
I can hear pulses,
Below jaw, above voice,
Behind knees to feet that speak
To the ground, for fear
of troubling the hands with the full weight of the sky.
Oh there is a peace that
Blows out my core and
Shakes every pip in its
Case
Oh there is a place in my
Bark that creaks when I
Stretch out my feet on
Air
A pace made of peace is
My breath as it breaks
Space between each step’s
Brace
Yours is a perfect face and it’s inhabited by the perfect sleep of a perfect mind
Whose full idea of life is to be as quiet and still as possible, a true creature
Unperturbed by the weight of humanity, At one with the quiet behind it
Perplexed by unnecessary ornament that
Ferments reality into human fabric
That cloaks and chokes the bright buzz
Beneath the haze of small talk
I always think the first epiphany
Is the last. Have you ever
Touched your palate, pretending you are it?
Imagine tongue as finger,
Explore the mouth and
Surprise delight to sit at
Heaven.
Different keys for different flavours,
Life is a difference between mushroom and banana. Use its
Loudest instrument, to communicate Consciousness to
Your roof, as if you were
Your own saviour, blessed by your own kiss
The water is all around us and can
Lift us. We will never sink if we
Drown doubt with open – eyed gratitude
The maker is continuous and so
Should we, a product, be, for
We form all in our own image
Continuity in Hope, and it repeats
Us so everything will come
Up at sum point, mathematically.
Hope never ceases, like Time, it is,
Bright, you will not find a black
Hole that’s not shot with hope – spots,
Throughout.
In the bark there is a
Swirl,
Press it, let its edges round
Yours,
Look down the avenue’s
Trees
With wind reaching in, to
Spine,
To the roots of your soul
Twined
To Earth’s grace, rolling on
Round itself, round the sun,
a God.
Light everywhere, swimming in the brooks,
Springing off each root and mound of moss.
Then underneath the light, the quiet heat
Softly prizes lamb-pink blossoms out of blue.
Light, we can
Dance again,
Without the
Rules of Frost
To hem us in.
It is the feeling of being
Cradled,
No matter what you’ve left
Unconfessed.
It is the feeling of being
Warmed,
No matter how many scars
Deface you.
My first sound of 2014
Was loud: water,
Soaking 2013’s tight
Twines of hope into
Something that is
Floating, now.
Being Every Day 