Of Dust & Dreams

I feel paradise
Plaguing your horizon
Close your hand
Hold me there

Let us gather dust


10 thoughts on “Of Dust & Dreams

      • You are the Potter.
        We, mud and clay in your hands,
        Burning at your will.


        I, a jug of clay,
        Sand in my body, humming,
        Calling the Saki.


        You say nothing and nothing is made.
        You say something and that thing is made.
        A Poet’s touch weaves life…that is your responsibility, your fate.

    • We are Listening

      It is life
      — and poems like stars
      Are points of intensity,
      Life weaving life
      Within and without.

      Last night in a dream
      I saw you,
      A white flower in the field,
      A poem of fingers
      Sewing itself,
      Untangling music notes
      Into jazz,
      A rhythm of flower-hips
      In your cheeks and eyes.

      Pronounced — like God’s breath,
      The primal Word,
      Flesh and spirit in the womb
      Of life.
      O Mother! You!
      Poet of poets
      It is your turn:
      Guide us with your song.

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