Ample Singing
She lifts me
like a balloon.
She caresses me
like a song
that makes me cry.
She destroys me
like dynamite
and I am new.
Her spirit dawns
like the moon-
simple and luxurious.
Her heart explodes
like broken crystal.
Her ample singing,
like bees buzzing.
She is stars.
She is lust.
She is universal
dust that I breathe.
She is illuminated,
coarse, free.
She is eternity.
When Light Enters
–For Denise Guiducci, and the ceaseless
spirit of Alan.
Here I am a hollow shell
mysteriously alone,
though life is all around me.
The mysterious thing about a shell,
hollow and empty,
is eventually dust will corrode
away the tip chipping
until a narrow hole is formed.
Light enters.
First the trapped air escapes.
Slowly replaced, that tepid air
converts to a universal mixture.
Wind sends the dust up,
collecting at the bottom of my core,
building to a mound.
Pregnant wind moistens
the Earth inside me, fertilizing,
preparing and softening the soil.
Tilled and ready.
The timely sparrow releases a seed.
Cascading through the narrow hole,
planting itself within my mound.
It grows tall, cracking my shell.
and I become the mound,
the air, and I am free.
80 Years
Towel snaps smack like mousetraps,
or the unexpected events causing whiplash;
the way your love hits me.
What will be here in 80 years?
Sequoias. Clouds. Politics.
Us? Not with the way we burn
the oil fueling our passion,
or how we crave the richest
flavors of culinary and wine.
Nor our conviction
that this Earth could share
a collective thought of peace.
Thunder cracks like a purse snatch,
unexpected from environmental trash;
but you’re with me.
Eighty years past,
our experiences engrained in molecules
are obvious magnets
pulling together our burning fuel,
melding our bond
like resin or glue.
Looking forward is peaceful.
Looking up, it’s restful-
we are the sparkle of dying stars.
