The Source

i bend
to stretch
tight hamstrings,
yoga breathing
deep, cored
waves, committed.
your hand floats
above my
naked globules,
unsunned white,
pressing humid air
to your palm’s stare.
the blond hairs bristle
with electric city
beginnings, endings, poems,
stormy at first,
stirring down to1880 logcabin
laps of gentle
consent, warmth,
and finally
desire for connection,
fuel of transference.

my breathing deepens,
windy, pomegranate scented
rings to be
shared, anointed.
we weave stringed loops
into cat’s cradles,
bridges across
desserts of thirst.
thirsty creeks
flow into
larger and more
insistent undertows.
crashing, breaths
draw you into
me, down to bone, to
implacable source.
message to
answer to message.
your gift to
my givance.
our river, our odyssey.

salvaging divine
beads of innocence,
we sew sumptuous hoops of
priapic demons,
ecstatic circles of fire.
we join hollow desire
with its own lava.
Niagara falls, deafening,
roars savage
as fused water and earth,
slag over waterfall
into the Great River,
steamy transformance-
peak emergence
in the curtain dance.
original signals of
original redemption
bring us to
a hidden palace,
guarded by fear, whose
barbed gates
open into
a garden of grace.

5 thoughts on “The Source

  1. Mesmerizing journey and connections penned with finesse!
    Your words flow effortlessly across the page awakening all of my sense. Thank you for another artistic treat.

  2. You have written an extraordinary poem about an intriguing and captivating journey-quest. It is a great pleasure to encounter poetry of this high quality. I love the photo of your amazing log cabin quilt as well. Thank you.

  3. These words just flowed out of me at breakneck pace. I scribbled frantically as if I were being dictated to by an imatient speaker.

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