I should not make any promises right now,
But I know if you
Pray
Somewhere in this world -
Something good will happen.
Not loving is a letting go.
Listen,
The terrain around here
Is
Far too
Dangerous
For
That.
Lovers
Don't tell all of their
Secrets.
They might
Count each other's moles
That reside in the shy
Regions,
Then keep that tally strictly
To themselves.
God and I
Have signe a contract
To be even more intimate than
That!
Though a clause
Mentions
Something about not drawing detailed maps
To all His beautiful
Laughing
Moles.
Lean your sweet neck and mouth
Out of that dark nest where you hide,
I will pour effulgence into your mind.
All your wounds from craving love
Exist because of heroic deeds.
There are
So many positions of
Love:
Each curve on a branch,
The thousand different ways
Your eyes can embrace us,
The infinite shapes your
Mind can draw,
The spring
Orchestra of scents,
The currents of light combusting
Like passionate lips,
The revolution of Existence's skirt
Whose folds contain other worlds.
Your every sigh that falls against
His inconceivable
Omnipresent
Body.
Let's get loose
With
Compassion,
Let's drown in the delicious
Ambience of
Love.
Sometimes I say to a poem,
"I don't have the strength
To wring out another drop
Of the sun."
And the poem will often
Respond
By climbing onto a barroom table:
Then lifts its skirt, winks,
Causing the whole sky to
Fall.
The heart is a
The thousand-stringed instrument
That can only be tuned with
Love.
Listen: this world is the lunatic's sphere,
Don't always agree it's real,
Even with my feet upon it
And the postman knowing my door
My address is somewhere else.
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