3 Poems, 2 of Which Were Written While I Stood at a Hostess Stand

[sic]

If you're trying to find Truth, fine.
Attempt to discern meaning
in the breaks
of my
lines.
If it's ground zero you want,
or a pre-packaged moral rigidly addressed to you,
resume.
But if you want truth, the beauty
of an unrestrained mind,
falter here.
Box nothing but mozy,
dreaming and awakening together.
Assimilation is understanding,
where we meet each other not in distinctions,
nor the common,
but both--indivisible--intermingled.
When you read my poems let them be
for they are me
and so are you
so let us be together
unedited; free.


Waiting for Summertime

O sweet June! Come close,
Closer now until your breath mingles
With my eyes and tingles on my tongue.
I will hold you, dearest June
For the entirety of the moon
And beyond its waning,
And further than the scent of the honeysuckles
Or the enlightenment of the fireflies echo
Into the darkness that is the lack of you.
With you the night is glamorous
For the stars are clamorous in raptures
At your smolder.
O June! Tarry longer still!
Smother me in your finery of green;
I want to feel you infused in my bones
Though I live or die.
Stay June, stay.


Mother

The Night was like the rain
As it fell surrounding me,
Washing me, astonishing me.
It sustained my being, that is to say
She catalyzed my coming to be.

Indelibly my feet crept
Through the glistening bricks,
And my outstretched arms
Ever extended to the mystery of the stars.

The Night like the rain
Fell like a womb,
A dark dwelling place for Potential.

My rooted feet, no longer allayed by their depth,
And my ambitious arms, no longer content with the stars
Flourished with abandon,
And I was forever.
And I was everything,
Stretched through and wrapped around
The Night like the rain.