~~FlowingOm~~

Spaces between the branches
Of the trees in your eyes
Quavering and wild


Sing


I am blind


Everything flaunting
The soft underbelly
Of the heart


A door
Into screaming vision
Drenched in ecstasy


A shadow
Flutters in the ocean
Of your breath


Exquisite spasms
orgasm
Of this moment


The silk of the snakes tongue
Whispering lost songs
Into the arch
Of my thigh



I am lost
Fading transparent
Before your gaze
Limpid beneath your touch


The velvet bark
Of willows
Remember soul songs
And crumbling walls
Quavering and wild


Scorched branches in your
Watering eyes
Dead quiet

Madness, my sage,


I am watching you
From ancient worlds
A shadow you could reach


Out and in
Touch as expansive as skin
Ink to keep us safe


I am secret and falling
These are not my words


Epistemic slumber
Copulation of chaos and order
Black seeds open the white flower


I am lost
In the bitter pink pulp
Flooding fingertips


Is this what you wanted?


In the lost city
When eyes turn so
And it is you
Watching from afar


Heart pounding blood
Through my muse
Eyes through twisted portal
Naval window
Opens atop my head


This other madness
Comes
Like this
Like shape shifters
In old mirrors
Dank and pristine

With love,

shattering

from 1998


that opening where horizons merge
where colors blend
into a fold
that is more
unfolding
into a deep song falling
through the memories
of a thousand mythic stars
from where i emerge
from labyinths enveloped
enveloping


where colors slip from my skin
a night sky reaching for dawn
the blood beneath the skin
on the back of my hand
is the breath that carries rivers
to soothe the infants of autumn


i am slipping silk among the landscapes of mirror
green and as far as eyes can see
a cacophony of life pulsing
the brilliant silence


drifting as hand to drum
towards heart and birth
before illusion draped over
were mistaken for time
that opening where the sun kisses sun
upon water kissing sky


it has been my experience
of mountains
of waterfalls and streams
against my skin
among my porous heart
a deep song


vivid colored labyrinths
the center everywhere
everywhere mirrors
threaten the wind


and all we’ve been taught falls away
leaving only
that small infinite place
where horizon embraces horizon

i see trees through my body
rich fields fecund soil
the scent of my blood


i am every thing
i am no thing
dancing illusions beginning to end
birthing phantoms
caressed thresholds
of i am

The plan
Or lack there of
Is like the forgotten
Potted plant on the step
Brown and wilting
a reminder noticed daily
put off until the next moment

Not as strong as the streaming sunlight

And spontaneity
Is often confused
With the tangential nature
Of a mind
That cannot focus
For long
On one thing

As the next shooting star
The endless loop
Of ever changing
Synaptic waterfalls

Nonetheless
Lists of plans
bloom from my fingertips
A plethora of planned buds
Winged and winded

This, this, and this
A breeze catching
Surprised awareness
So busy
forgetting
no thing is arrant

The past
Once flaming, searing,
so heavy handed
Now sanguine, fleeting,
a feathery touch
What shaped me
slips quiescently
into my depths
The space created
for now
Frees me
Seeing clearly
just how good things are
And I understand
The need
for a different muse
A changed one
The present

some written words
leave me deaf
hold me mute
so that I can inhale
worlds
through the pores
of me eyes

some written words
make the worlds
fall away
so that I may travel
beyond my own story

Life waits inside us
On the precipice of a metaphor
We are everything
We are nothing

Life dances around us
We are infinite blooms of perception
(These blooms await our trampling)
Porous and fecund
Hopelessly nearsighted
yet seeing far

Life lives in volition
our action
our stillness
our quiet
our song

blood and dreaming
orchid eyes of night
fire coral caress
burning burning bright

blood and fire
adrift upon the memory
all we will be
burning burning bright

dark shadow surrender
red tears and falling
calling what has lost us
burning burning bright

blood and spire
crumbling ghosts
misbegotten scenes
burning burning bright
amputated dreams

they never told me; that the
early morning birdsong
would leave me
falling across the skin
of the mountain; dreaming
the Sun’s first breath

I discovered early
I was allergic to clowns; as they were
larger than the TV images
of childhood;
on the back of a horse
amazing feats of freedom
salve of my childhood;
I discovered too late -
after I had traded
the race through the trees
to the serene fields
of apples and books
for the phosphorescent
rebirths in back seats
of cars; the torn dress
never quite
the woundless drumfire
of blatting winged hooves
on soil
oblique disciple of steeds
I discovered too late
I was allergic to clowns



photo credit: www.tomchambersphoto.com

isotropic nematic

echoing
from the center
liquid
crystal spheres
span distance
equilateral concentric
into space
substrata platitudes
spiraling
within nebulous matter
layers
inverse ambigrams
echoing

disconnected I flee
mundane torpedoes of sound
piercing fragility’s snake
winding itself through and through
my breath
trapped I am
this illusory throat

disconnected I am
this cacophony
of daily mechanisms
of barking dogs
screaming thoughts
at small innocents

disconnected I confess
mercurial seasons
a knot in the circadian rhythm
a small death with
disintegrating auditors
clamorously self indulgent

and this
now that the sounds have passed
means little
in the dance of wassailing silence

one last blackout for the day...


fecundity

life
composed

from dreams
unconscious

connections

woven
as they are

we see
a world
we make

life
expands

each friend
a possibility

throw dreams
into space

bring back
a new life
to love

everything
born
is planted in her

more blackout poetry……


blood fingered
branches anticipating
subtle vibratory substratum

everything we experience
energy

not simple expression
of the divine
but power

reality is dance
takes form as
body
thoughts
perceptions

the world
the idea
that absolute formless
also manifests
entities

sources of everything

understood personifications

our consciousness contemplating
vast impersonal paradox

born of archetypal energies
we all share

a murder of crows
behind my eyes

these dreams
take time
are deafening

cowed by
metaspheres
of emptiness

this implosion of screaming
artificial

flocks of procrastination
racing under head
and longing

Horizon
– Blackout Poetry

restless spirit
upon you
this warning

open your spheres

the sheer scope
may confound time

look upon these
as energized chance

immerse yourself

change

feel more

understand

avenues of Knowing
capable of aspiration

we choose
the horizon
we see

the infinite array

an open mind

empowered

to disappear
into the numerous before

Daft Jewels


No waiting
No separate muse

bending I am
stretching I am
expanding I am
contracting I am

My breath
out
in
Infinite regress

Inkless inspiration

Daft jewels
In the heat of darkness

I imagine her
Waiting with supine undulations
In the soft folds of horizon

I reach between the vertebrae
And she slips under
My vision

No I
No my

And yet
She is

waiting for me
With out waiting

for Rachel, on the edge of 17




Am I defective?
she asks
seriously

and I answer that -
perception may not be reality

and then
I wonder
am I defective?
imperfect?
Faulty?
Archaic?

perhaps.
Thankfully.

but never
lacking, deficient
not out of order (I dance for chaos like some sing for supper)
occasionally offensive, a spelling error
the awkward metaphor

but not unsound
not broken

maybe wanting

something other
than what is
is still what is
in the moment

supplicant labyrinth
offering the sacred

and she is so far away

I reach to you offering
my eyes
as an embrace

my perception
an innumerable
feathered
quilt

it is ok
you are ok
even on your bed of nails

don't confuse the storm at sea
with the solidness of the ground you stand on

we are all red under the skin
even when we are blue

and no one knows intimacy like the spoon in your mouth

what difference does it make
if your moment rattles the glass?

chew gently
your heap of bones and flesh
the only home you have

and if dreams were more than dreams -
how would you decorate your self?

and if your thoughts are citizens -
must you listen to them all?
befriend each one?
believe each honest?

even I once lied compulsively
on a bed of what I thought they wanted to hear

can we choose our thoughts like we choose our friends;
learning from experience?

and just for one radical moment
imagine
being
what ever you are
with out judgment

they never tell you this
but it is okay to hum with happiness
in the midst of the storm
when the tree roots scratch your throat
when the hallway of locked doors seems unending -
the insomniac's party

so no my dear,
you are not defective
even when ineffective

how else would you learn
to know the stars?

the angst of your creation myth
will be the song of your strength

it's ebullient resilience
the soul's best kept forgetting -
reversed recoiling

and darling,
the ever complex
is the tree that bears fruit
and stands through the seasons
even the strike of lightening
not burning the roots

simple to say

but take care the rooms you lock yourself into
and ask of who's own choosing
this resident paranoia

in the land of make believe
the cruelest of cynics are easily terrorized

and this too is like moments


is but a dream
one peel of the onion
the untouched jewel at the center of your earth
remains
waiting

and if in the eye of the unseen breeze
my jesters seem to spout
platitudes
in self indulgent silks

I reach out with heartfelt ablutions
this belief in your ultimate ability
to navigate
psyche's tangled tresses

as you look again, again, and again
in new ways
with today's eyes

I want to say
I care about you

August 2008

ophthalmologism


ophthalmologism

distant and untouchable
the blanket of safety
exposes

hungry ghosts -
offering solutions
like familiar props

poisonous habits of thought
scary marionettes
swaying in the cool breeze

do we ever outgrow the conditioning of our youth?
not the breakfast cereal,
but the hidden ingredients -
their names unspeakable

the space between
the Saturday morning cartoon and the commercial

the dearest friend
is a mirror
forcing the vampire's reflection -
the past sucks itself dry

this too is illusion

so, how old does one have to be
to be new?

torpid goddess
the atheist balloon
athirst

unnerving stranger
fragile and transient
we are

silent
hidden
screaming
do you see me?

contemptible gifts glitter in the dawn
when the world looks new

can you see the humanity
inherent contradiction
platypus platitudes
filling every moment
connecting the dots

the insufferable fury of shoulds
saying
it should be simple
as simple as new love
as easy as remembering
at the cellular level

as clean as the changing seasons
are taken for granted

the recreation of creation
with no sidelines

it should be simple
to float when stuffed with sand -
savory and sweet

perhaps I need my I-s checked

August 2008

symbolic imaginings appearing real

this is temporary

What is it that you want?

slipping between the trees at dusk
dressed in secrets
surrounded

the night sky's blood dresses you in lace
and I am lost

What is it that I want?

memories slipping between the horizon
with nary a wrinkle

the snagged thread that just keeps pulling
a magician's trick
an unblown tapestry
a finger wake

spirals into dogma's stolen handmaidens

Transcending nothing
is still transcendent

I say nothing
to say everything

encased in glass
sinking deep
into your eyes

a poem to no one

no audience
no glorious metaphor
to disguise emptiness
to betray fullness

no birth
that


amorphous string
of thoughts
beaded and glittering

a child's plastic toy in the rain
a poem to no one
wood chips between the dogs teeth

the cavern grows large, ripening
the fruits of denial
starving the finer points

dreaming of that perfect tomorrow
when

a small piece of me and not me at all
calls

secret selfishness
not so secret

Whose flower is this?

speak to me

blooming no where
dancing antiquated steps
ripping over stale tongues
with creaking joints

like the Korean ghost story
it takes only a hint
only one strand creeping midnight hair
only fingertips curling
to raise the follicles of lies

sleeping between the eyes of a scream
is not the way they promised it would be

So tell me

What I have told you?
What have you heard?

hands sear
I am inferno beneath frigid skin
this change


symbolic imaginings appearing real

that one apple
was a lie

it was only fruit
and worm eaten at that

used as an excuse
to justify
emptiness

no bending over backwards
no pheromone elixir
no deeper truth
no secret smiles
no silence
no alchemy

now shhhhhh I say
hush
listen
the molecules are dancing
with no need for a god

hush
and listen
to the hum of electricity
even on the mountain

as if silence where real
as if

all was as it is
and as it is
is what is was
but not before

Don't you know?

clinging to air will give you blisters

on your hands and knees

before me
hungry muse
digesting a lack of form

saying no thing
not one by one
but bloom by bloom

in the blinding heat of our ignorance
we outgrow our aging

silent trembling
unspoken
yet shining upwards
stretching mind
stretching mine

the random page
opened to a cherry orchard
blood red fingers
sweet on my skin
a fabled abundance

a qualified adornment
a forgotten talent
like the thunder we made

torrential
tomorrow
of dusty sighs

she walks between the trees singing

Will I always wonder who she will be?

August 2008

Poems
Float through
Consciousness
Laughing wildly
At my inkless hand
Then turning to comfort
My emptiness

I am not
Dalai lama

I am
Buddha
With a lampshade on my head

I cannot
give to you
My emptiness
Until I dance it into my joy

Then I will hold you


The lampshade
Is
And grows dusty


So I try


Moving in stillness
From my core

Then I sneeze

The lampshade is dusty
I fall over

When I rise
The sun shines into my eyes

The lamp shade has fallen into the soil
My forest of ghosts

I can breathe now
So I give you my breathe

It is not mine to hold

Though I have no arms
I am determined
To reach out

to hand you

My shadows
My heart
My blindness
My sight

Are they mine to give?

Can I forgive my falling
When in a moment of fear
I reach for the lampshade?


Will you hold me then?

1

In the throws of languor

I am covered in seawater

Sea turtle heavy against my chest

And cannot feel

My mother’s embrace



2

In my suit of torpor

I grow large

With protection

That leaves me

Raw



3

In the craving of release

I am the gardener

Growing “I’s”

And watching them

Fall away

Shattered masks



4

In a moment of vision

I can feel

Each small feather

Of change

Brushing my skin

Before sinking in



5

In Cultivating now

Now

I am swimming to the surface

Of my depths

And smiling in the mirror

Of every one





6

In the comfort and discomfort of attention

I can breathe

Gliding on the turtles back

Towards the sea’s

Mothering embrace



7

in the wind of today

I am a riddle

With ever changing answers

And only one truth



8

in the captivation of laughter

I can dance on fishes

Swirling into the places

Language has no need to reach



9

In the mundane

Everything is sacred

And becoming

Is merging

With everything

And no thing



10

In the seat of my palm

My heart

I stare into this stranger

And she courses through me



11

In the quiet of quiet

Silence embraces

A deep breathe of thunder

When sinking is floating



12

In the contemplation

Of the journeyed path

I am traveling the arteries and vessels

Of the universal body

And my feeling of being lost

Is illusion

Lynn Frances
8/22/04

I used to sit

In bed




Art books piled high

Poetry anthologies

Balanced on my head




Journal and pen at my side




Flipping pages

Diving into

Images



Waiting



For the first line

To jump

From the photographed paint

From the near biographies




Finding it’s way

Onto the soft paper journal

The underside of my wrist




And then words would follow like waterfalls

And in the moonlight

I never knew what words were next



Only that my face was upturned

To the rush

And I knew I could

Breathe underwater



The words formed tapestries

Filled pages

Fed me



I would stay up all night

As if

With

A new lover

Morning clambered into my dreams
---not gently
tossing
---about
the dream

---I abandoned
the underwater folly

where time
---as it wasn’t
mothered my wounds

I thought to flee
to sink again
--- was rooted to the spot

Swaying
---awaken

tangled dream whisps
---scattering children

Day's first home
---An ocean of sheets

each morning I awake
and I am home
new in this day
and in this way

the way
I fit
in your arms
both new and old
after all these years
this is coming home

he sleeps
the seas calm
slight rise
and fall
each breath
a kiss
of elusive memories
sun drenched
skin sure
rippling
in the soft
heat

Wait – the petal whispered as she lay down her powdery skirt and
Drove the willows away in a dream
People no longer
Grass so lush and green against her skin
I feel – I feel - she whispered and fell from the stem
It lifted her
This mother wind, this baby’s breath
No threat to
Feel the loosening embrace
About your neck
She said it again –
Wait -

Exercise

The weight of me
Bending

My salutations
To this temple

Moving
Effortlessly

Struggling to lift
That last burden
From my psyche

Inside out
And again

The weight of me
Running on air

In a storm of heavy
Beats

I can fly

healing

even hidden
ongoing
the hummingbird's return

with every breath
a new moment born
deep stretch

the green lush
reflecting
after days of rain

clouds
moon pierced and
running
with stars

one moment
free
of suffering

and healing
is changing
is ours

even this
we set free

Flowing Om
pen to hand
finger to key
this stream
long dormant
above perception
still flows