I shopped at the market
I shopped at the market,
for you I bring the fresh spinach
breads of all shapes
to kiss in your mouth
on your lips
on the tips of tender things
fresh and quick let's eat them now.
I am rooted, footed, lifted
eyes practice elevation
at night and then again at sunrise.
Just like when
those flying men stepped down
onto our wave-maker satellite,
I stared at the TV, I ran out,
I stared at the orb. They were up there walking.
I mean really walking on the moon.
Oh man, astronauts.
And then the primitive experience,
union with universal essence in movement,
watching darkness speed
2,000 m.p.h., prisms, beads, diamonds,
360 degree sunsets.
Listen, light forever came from the west in Canada.
I gaze, stargaze and feel rushing, extinguishing space.
I never believed I was mortal.
Many, no millions
Many, no millions of notes,
dark fingers bare and frozen,
each reach a paint-blown curve
toward bliss, they hiss wind,
vie close hollow sound.
Too, it could be the music of you,
but it is empty brown lifted deep,
surging sweet crystalline clatter
from the warm thick river,
glistening weightless on the tips,
the very tips of twigs.
I remember loosened braids of hair
stray at the night carnival.
Everything was growing on me.
I stood with hurting buds of breasts,
little aching dimes under my nipples,
youthfully afraid and ready to ride.
I shall have braids again, when I'm an old woman.
It is coming.
My face, my rivers,
they are flowing now.
And my eyes, aquamarine rays,
shoot out old blue love
to you forever-
though, all of my questions have been answered.
I look in the day mirror
and practice trills and calls and twist my hair
in the reflection of mountains
behind me, in front of me
walls of mountains.
I will make them all women.
They are growing and beautiful.