Samadhi
On one side embers,
the old juice
thickens, tries to catch and hold
my precious fire-berries.
Something grasps me,
memory holds me animate,
words can’t find-
in stumbling tongue,
searching.
Dark mind inside,
coiled, hidden.
A secret,
a mission,
a secret mission.
My mental toil,
within these temperamental walls,
hidden in darkness
the soul silently leaps from the mountain side,
rising again, fundamentally creased.
People are shouting
into the sky, into the earth,
between the critical turn of a thousand futile handshakes,
the crimson shame
breaks hope,
holds out strings of blossom
with thin arms
to a spent planet.
Way behind the laughter lines
reality tunnels through the core.
Instincts rise up,
tied on
like an apron.
If the string falls,
I die,
even though I know
it’s an illusion.
The body can’t take the burning
it cries out,
basic in its strangeness.
Blood, skin and bone,
bone under velvet.
The monster in the closet.
The monster beneath the velvet,
hell heart,
beating everyone.
Inside everything,
inside mine.
Crust.
And static.
Imaginatively put together to look like someone.
Inside crust and static,
looking empty,
flowing upwards,
cutting through,
tumbling out, out into the middle.
The white birds eat grain,
go where the food is. Follow.
The mountain comes to the market place,
taking the big breath.
In.
In.
Back straight,
legs bent,
light spills
across the wall.
Counting the toes to venerate presence,
biting flesh,
coarse between teeth that prattle.
A cold morning,
a hard frost,
a darkened wall:
the body freezes,
the blood slows.
I break away
like a calving glacier
into the ocean.
The escalating moment
dawns
sunless,
everything lights up
from the inside.
Caught in sudden
Silence,
the body
forgets to breath.
In.
In.
Mud into mud,
the whole mountainside slips against the core.
Lacking edges, the drama unfolds
without the creased messiah,
without portent.
Humbled I kneel,
stunned-
knowing
nothing.
The stranger, selfless.
The arm in the snow,
blood creeping into pinkness,
dilute.
Resolute.
Tumbling out
master of nothing.
Time hints,
bell and wood
bid us rise
and
we walk.
Trailing our glory behind us
we stream into each other,
fluent as a slow river.
We move faster,
the body shifts
immense,
wielding whole countries,
the feet tread continental drift,
galactic hands
grip,
solar-
plexus
gleam.
I am gone into the morning-
becoming my mother
and my father.
Furthering the famished belly,
snarling in solitude.
The open window,
the breeze,
the cool air discerning nothing.
The skin is new.
Skin within skin.
We sit
in close communion,
breathing water and birds.
In.
In.
Out.
Out.