Will spirits urge us on?
Past blood horizons;
luscious longings?
Or will cutting winter winds
darken soft summer skies?
Oh thousand storms and forests,
What firefly births
propelled us past
this now essential life?
What waters raining gentle love,
churning with purple diamonds,
will soothe a mother’s weeping symphony
to smooth the taboo rawness?

The child prances through this ruse,
ignoring bourgeoises voices,
dark chocolate and poetry, says
I am God’s gorgeous daughter


My lover wishes to have tasted
my breast milk
twenty years too late
the rain child watched
his goddesses prance,
and I revile his feet

together we suckle, though so sad
for brother heaven weeps

Delirious cries we must arise
Singing a crush white sea foam
while blue sprays mirror morning

into shadow gardens where
tongue drunk we float away
from cares of gravity