Peeling
the onion of this moment,
digressing into space that holds only
worship of unguided pleasure.
Leave, as clothing at the door,
the perceptions of this day.
Empty
the pockets of this heart
into a second-hand chalice;
fast beating as lines of an old world-almost
gone world.
Immersion,
suspense in the bell jar;
the many ways
a womb catches light.
Could not we open another bottle,
breath life again into this first?
Bless all those willing to go beyond
penetrate the ridicule that we have offered ourselves
as ourselves.
I waiver in the space between play and revolt.
What if anything do i have to move against?
Self.
Call upon Buddhist teachings,
the fundamentalists;
my avant-garde education.
I abandon non-attachment
for a moment now.
Skin is thick,
though with a certain beauty
the pressure of gravity presses
upon me until teeth move
deeper into skull.
Behold the antiserum,
ancient-pressed femininity;
the softest breath, essence of divine light embodied-
will take only two centuries of denial
before meeting manhood inside:
If you think
my transparency beholds innocence,
stop thinking.
If you aim to conquer,
evacuate.
The first time we lay beside one another
i touched space,
body's deepest vulnerability
mentioning, your full trust was needed
to reach the heart of me.
I imagine
that in my eyes you see me,
but really your turning away
is only from an untamed mirror.
As in death,
both nothing and all
i know the fate of any loving that which
might pass through my gate.
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