04-16-2017, 10:58 PM
A Recurring Thought of the Spirit Mother
Silent sound equivalent of neon
outlined and seized my ontological
self in multiples, elongated like
accordion bellows toward rhapsodies
of raspberry and honey. I am turned
to liquid, a liquid music surging
like mountain creeks in spring, rushing onward
through zigzags one to the next or sideways
or downward through quick twisting passages,
getting smaller, brighter and the music
becomes pure as I open into vast
illuminated fields of clear and green,
I become green - a tremolo I am -
I am back- I am a leaf a piacere.
Silent sound equivalent of neon
outlined and seized my ontological
self in multiples, elongated like
accordion bellows toward rhapsodies
of raspberry and honey. I am turned
to liquid, a liquid music surging
like mountain creeks in spring, rushing onward
through zigzags one to the next or sideways
or downward through quick twisting passages,
getting smaller, brighter and the music
becomes pure as I open into vast
illuminated fields of clear and green,
I become green - a tremolo I am -
I am back- I am a leaf a piacere.