To S and the Precious One
I’ve melted all the snows within me
to warm the grounds of your arrival.
Between the visible
and the invisible
all my fires have dissolved into spring water
that celebrates your approach.
Dear S, all those years
you held roses over the world’s wounds
didn’t you see why candles are consumed by flames and heat?
They only want to be conscious of themselves.
The pendulum moves,
but who decides where it is at any given point in time?
Is there a strict dichotomy between flexibility and control?
Is the headless bird a metaphor for transmigration?
And are the deer, leaping across remote distances,
messengers for Christmas?
Or are they here to intensify that feeling of “we’re lost”?
The poet of pessimism and self-restraint
has become darker, or more brilliant than reality?
She recites an ancient mantra:
“In the absence of any meaningful event,”
as if nervously waiting for something to occur.
She feels she roams, but what really keeps roaming is
the expanding disquiet.
Is there any still point
to this turning world
that turns towards the infinite...... Or turns to nothing?
Gazing into the fountain and the azure sky
That are deep under my skin,
I Feel the roses in my collarbones
For the deep pains and sorrows of the world,
There is one and only prescription
A Drop of Water
I pretended to be the running water,
to be the fast rain,
to be the sea and ocean,
until one day
the mirage coughed out spring and all seasons
coughed out starry nights, coughed out sunny days.
It dawned on me then
that I’ve always been
a mere, true, perfect
drop of water
which, in its tiny singularity
reflects you, reflects us, reflects all.
A Love Poem
riding on a white horse
smells like green grass, smells like spring breeze,
and on her skin
She carefully removes the thorns from her roses
she begs with her eyes,
oh how she’s been looking,
dying to meet you!
A Love Letter to Time
I have so much to confide
but it would have to be a love letter
engraved by my will
and posted from my Future
A Poem About Poems
It’s not me writing these poems,
they just arrive at my lips
like peach blossoms arriving each spring,
like the ocean falling upon the shore,
like the games kids invent.
These poems fall upon my body, caress the tips of my fingers,
they’re just like You
who arrives in my poems
like blood returning to the stopped heart.
See? Here You are, over and over,
throbbing in my poems
a willful, lovely visitor.
These poems inhabit me
because of You,
because You’re meant to be sung and praised through poems
for they manifest the good in all.
I, A Daughter
I sit on the sizzling hot button of my Father issue
Why you, why me?
I’ve travelled around the galaxy
seeking a clean slate
wiped free of you
I’ve gone through wild woods and over frozen earth
I’ve trekked to the land where Oedipus
settled down to hide from himself
His only answer
was blindness and stillness
that’s how he honored his fate
I travelled back and forth
from my birth to my death
only to suffer the same honor
Now I harbor my grief and yours
and I pray to you
that we may be permitted to sing ourselves
and celebrate life’s breath and its hazards
We come from nowhere
but compounded dust
Prior to this
we slipped through God’s fingers
to erupt, dance, and roar.
I’ve slain myself billions of times
and from the infinite oscillation,
I’ve salvaged, re-folded and multiplied myself with E = mc^2
You might have seen me
or maybe not
my self-decaying burning and blazing
is my longing and my fate.
If you ever gaze on me,
fall into the universe of my light.
The Gap of Time
We’ve walked on the same fields and lawns
been the same buildings and dorms—
between you and me
there’s merely a gap of time
like in a slowed down film’s eyeblink
I want you to see this before I leave
so you can arrive faster
at your true self
heart-broken and heart-healed
No drugs to help you work it out, just yourself
and the hunger of the void that turns and rebounds
from whatever’s lost, whatever’s found
There’s a chance that in you
something will grow
that turns into a spirit that you never were—
my you become my silent pal of glancing light