A Poem to the Goddess
Time and thought leave behind
A kind of spice
That dulls my senses
And draws me away from the heavy certainty of my body
And I ache to feel the metallic richness of earth
Cool around my bones
The weighty importance of each ahh
I am made of salt and sulfur
These days
I raise my children on kisses
and sound
Iccha and Icaros
I smell of sulfur because I have sat so long
in the hot milky waters of that
Form
which seem to be heavy and hard
And when I am tethered by thought I feel the seed
the seed covered in a thin film the way the
earth is covered in a thin film of soil and
the trees covered in a thin film of bark
Body covered by the organ of skin
Dust creeps on the countertops
Oil returns over hair filament
Water bathes the eye
The mint root so persistent in the earth
I pull out the plant and the fragrant leaves
Stir in movement
And they regrow
Again
This is not the way to meditate
To pull and pull again is to be drawn toward the stirring scent
To feel the dust on my skin
And not get cold
Is what I wish
To ask the question how is it possible that there are maps out there to the One
And each map is so exquisite
How is it that there is one language that seems to hold these maps
And rather than follow that question which can only lead to more,
(And after all is there no greater pain than a lack of faith?)
But instead to allow the question how is it possible that there are maps to the One
To unfold as wonder
Is what I wish for you
I think
Attachment is the residue of love
From love is born all things
The thought birth is so light, if only
I could be you as you with you show you
The goddess emerges out of my forehead
Center covered in a thin film of red
She will not wait for me
She waits for no one
And at the center of every emotion lies a tight thought
covered by shield after shield
So dense and hot that it could if it wanted to seep through the cracks to burn the world
Great men have been using her power to uphold the mythology of their Name
names more important than their lives
Odysseus
Beowulf
Then too Ozymandius
And as warriors they cared more for that survival of sound then of the tenuous body that seeds its blood
and from that blood arises more
more names
I see god in everything
I suppose you could call me a stalker
Admittedly a very
Lazy
One
I walked past a writhing snake yesterday
A crow was swooping down to eat it as it still lived
As it bowed to the one great Destroyer of Time
A large, powerful beast
Remorselessly pecked and again
This is all we need to know
She does not care how she kills
Do not ask her what is fair and what is unfair
Until you are writhing in your life’s final moments
And whispering
Thank you
Thank you