Here- am I now, so late in the year, beginning my current life’s poems? Why does bare fruit only as the winds are picking up, and the sky is cool and still. Here, I am, Poems Journal 2021, Holy, Holy, Holy!
from 09/19/2021
I hear the Master’s voice. I drive the Master’s carriage.
His Brilliance far better than mine; Intelligence vast and infinite.
A co-pilot from eternal planes. But I am driving.
I hear the Master’s Voice; I drive the Master’s carriage.
from 8/1/2021
LUcy and the Underworld
I just had the feeling I wanted to reach out to you just now- even though it is accompanied by the fear that you need immense distances of space in order to maintain a happy correspondence. And that the largest part of any desire I have to correspond with you would be unwanted- and then a spiral down, imagining my desire unwanted and there is no way out from that. The lowest place in hell is regret because there’s no way out.
Fear even a word of my, now drowned desire, would bring shock and rejection from you. And I would ruin everything by my impatience. Impulsivity. Spontaneity. The truth I am pregnant to tell, the love I might secretly, ashamedly, twistedly love. For you- and that is the end of us. Too bad I expressed my mind with impertinent passion. I am so sorry. I did this to you- to us. I did this.
Why am I so false? You are fine. I am, too.
Holy shit I cannot believe it’s been so long since I’ve written and published a poem. Where have I been? Rambling down the road to my new nativity. Here, a palmful of diamonds and dirt, thrown upon the earth at your feet. Sorry to soil your shoes. But don’t you feel lucky?
from evening, July 15, 2021
To You and Your Drunkenness
Let Love and Truth to reign, All Day, Every Day:
Passionate Love licking like lions. Lightnings of Truth, and we the ground.
Let no one feel rejected, as if anyone designed us that way- as if the Mother of All Compassion and Tender Love would push that hateful thorn in to anyone’s spine?
I like you- I reject you not.
I see in you a joy that is stronger than your fear, a joy greater than your anger. Greater than that wound in your heart, the mother wound, that thorn of hate pressed into the pleasure of her embrace. But the joy in you presses you outward- you stamp on the earth and shout your desires to these hills til they echo in the sky. Your vision, luscious in your mouth as you speak it.,
I see in the distance, us several hills ahead, there is only ‘glory’ and ‘sacrifice’ for us – those two words, dancing, body to body. What, our glory? And what, sacrifice? Under Jesus’ timely watch; under God, and Love and Truth- what glory, and what sacrifice?
I am anticipating the Word of God; let that frame be the shape of my heart. Praise God, Praise God’s Love, as our lives surf the Waves of His Feeling. The One Being that does not require anything of His Beneficiaries- drink. The cup is overflowing and weren’t we empty as a can?
All love fled from us in terror as if threatened by wolves hungry for a kill. We had no one, only, for one day, each other. A hand and a hip near our own as we climbed.
Glory as I joy in love. To call me out of my small trailer and ask me on an adventure, out onto the expansive plane of the world? Hallelujah! God has given gifts!! A joyous woman! A hand and a hip, near to mine as we climb high and straight, or slide low and curvy in the sand. A many warnings and a many possibilities. Assuden, we surprise ourselves with a kiss.
But what sacrifice? Cut out any untruth- Kali destroys only illusions. Let Love guide my ascension. “I enjoy our ascenion” we say, our flesh embedded in the shifting paths to where we belong.
Are we heading to heights unimaginable, higher realms than readily exist? The love, then, possessed, the truth owned, so deep as to belong to God.
But, perhaps I’m in in the grips of Neptune, thrown out to the sea and left there to find my way home, in oceans of dreams, singing a song too far from anyone’s ear? Or is that bell of your ear ringing?
Or is it truly ringing in me? I doubt. The darkness unseen might be too fearful. My loins contracted because of you. Because of danger, danger, danger, and then the thrill of speeding down Highway 290 into Johnson City, all wind caressing us like a hand. Deciding upon the yes-will and the yes-desire and going with that one straight away! Naked, leaning back on my lap, the clean river water rushing over us, touching everywhere. “Isn’t this wonderful?!!!”
To you in your sobriety
How wide is your embrace? Greater or less than. <: signs of mathematical equivocation. Who is more? And who less? There, that thorn lives in my loins. Ouch. I am feeling the fewer, the lesser, and the furious force of that competition.
How wide is your embrace, compassing your angles of advantage? That circumference, the limits of capacity to love. How much can you hold? A bucket with holes, water wasting onto the grass, nourishing needs unconsciously? Will I ever say yes to the pleasure you bring, knowing that most of me will be missed? Unheard, unhelped, misunderstood and misdirected… I cry, even now, thinking of what might be- sobbing an ache in my heart. Given such fullness of blood to my most depleted part, a gift for a wound to heal upon- but missed?
Is there any way we could find virtue in our time together? One mere acre of flesh owned and enjoyed together? We have two months. I am a popsicle for your pleasure. Be ye?
In my 49th Year
Jesus, help me find the Truth. Befriend the search light of my inner eye.
Silently anticipate the Word of God. (It’s always silent where I am).
I am now an aeolian harp vibrating on the waves of God’s feeling.
(Deserve to be read by virtue of excellence).
Stutz's Fairy Tales and Poems 