Every kind of indulgence

Emotional greed, because I’m the only one in this room who can feel

Maybe we can build something pretty

A tree house with small blue windows

Laze inside liquid to begin again, a more perfect version of the womb

The plants will grow arms and the flowers ears

This way eternity will have companions

Sea blue see oceans of life through the peep holes of sea blue perception

Can you grow new limbs to replace the ones that have fallen off, my lovely little worm?

This is the place to hope for miracles

Each new extension: FINGER TOE ELBOW KNEE growing eyes to keep the memory

beyond this illusion of life

The third eye

Tonight we dream of gardens, the perfect birth.

The possession that would build like smoke, wet wood and smoke

What is it, which I speak of? Where does it find home?

I speak of what it is I have found. What it is, is unspeakable

It lives right now in some garden ripe with fruit and wilting flowers

Ponds that have no bottom and fish with three eyes

It lives at the edge, where the grass becomes thick and reaching

Lives on the giant rock that towers above, yet is surrounded

The dark bird cradled by the divine giant oak is the meaning of love

Sky is self, but it is something else

Seeds sex, seeds passion and spasms of life, seeds the undiscovered

Leaves mean creation from the root

Soil is seeking, soil is fear

The large cemetery, decorated with seashells and makeshift God ornaments... reminder of the things which can not be remembered or relived

It is partly there

Partly playing with the serpents

Partly asleep

Partly amongst the lilies

Night like insanity casts shadows on the things we think we know

As night falls on the garden the things which are known... the it ... becomes a great dragon without body

It has learned that time is a vulture

That time is peace

That time is unreal

One spring day it began to count the blossoms, the sprouts, weeds, moving things, breathing things ... it began counting the life

As summer spread there was no rest, as the life became overwhelming

As autumn crept in - subtraction

Winter is the realization of death

And spring a contradiction to the end

Could it have been imagined? The end, and what would become of it?

Repetition, but this time there is more

It diluted the unforgivable, hiding it between the cracks, between the unseen

The ants have found it hibernating there, and now palaces and pathways

Eternity is a bell that rings only once, but that too is pictured again

It forgets to sleep, not exactly alert, just the slow hum of being it. Being

Sense is only a projection

And so on and on

It was, when I was wandering the labyrinth

I am the stranger who created it, no obligations... only discovery

I am it, but it is not me.

I am the seed and it is the tree, linked by the umbilical cord that is God

... if God had a name today.

Rhythm began at the far reaches

Periphery and then reaction to tilt the head

Fragrant luster

Moist to the touch

Felt it stir around the corner and at the top

Unexpectedly reaching

Layered miracles

Silence to stimulate grace

That initial nerve candy

Edges, heights, expanses

Open space

Stepped one foot in front of the other

By no other name but love

Then still soft center

Clearly grown

Finding lotus flowers in the frozen fish pond