Tuesday, 19 April 2011

18/30 - Spring. Full Moon.

Spring.  Full Moon.

on the cusp of sleep you appear
where you should be

I acquiesce to your presence
I am e.e. cummings’ Y(e)sssssS

yin swooning receptivity
this pond this lake this ocean
blissfully catching your rainfall
placidly gentle motion

open-mouth me spoken
collect me pieces
mosaic me wholly yours
the dish sings harmony with the spoon

I am your moon
rise shine nighttime
blue-black mystery
fold me into your blanket there

there ye


today the clouds were earthquakes
shifting plates
clouds are what celestial women recipe
from water, dust, and cosmic gasses
sky is unconcerned expansive
but if it makes her happy
then she should create this
beauty this pre-Raphaelite
tuft of heaven

he knows the night sky
is when

she ceases her restlessness
coils springs round
shows herself
divine feminine

he attends


she is forever learning to wait
crafting patience
from moonbeams and stardust
she has swept up

he laughs at her
she knows
she can’t stop herself

tonight will be different
he will see

she will shine tides into being
wrap herself around his shadows
til he sees himself reflected
in her aurora

she cannot eclipse him
he is all
sometimes he forgets this

he will remember
she will tell him

she will tell him

c. e. amato

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