how will you feed the flames of spring
you and i awash in sleep
while winds rise and fall
carrying fire, and the place the fire was
i have a dream i've watched
compose itself slowly—
the one who builds her nest from dawn
all the room in the world
is a grain of stillness—
the life that comes to life when the last word is spoken
reach into the space of your wanting—
a soul there, stretched across dark water
and no consciousness of beginning over
a seed in the soil doesn't know it has eyes
but you, suspended in air, use
your eyes to deny the invisible
are the clouds towering over you
those gliding across the surface
of the waters beneath your breath
deep is the right place to be
in the dark, sweet kernel
where your suns are gathering their warmth
this is the hour my heart fell from the sky—
the moon less than full, but reaching, and
the eyes of the sleepers like seeds
all day,
winds foaming over the roof of my house
how my heart is filled
with tiredness
of a runner who does not have to run
a thread of green
begins the plowing
and your heart is beating away
everything is wind
if you listen closely
you can become the wind again
in the time it takes
for music to enter the chimes
buds of the sky swell open
what nothing can lift
gradually lifts its wings
why there is radiance within your eyes
why did i wake up where i had never been?
answered the wisest hunter of meaning
in you there is proof :: life has the power :: to be where it had not been
what one unearths :: is the dream in the blood :: a black stone in the hollow where we play
is it the moon in an ecstasy of mist :: or my life swimming beside me
what i was :: only moments before :: the rain lost its way to the sky