the body is taut, taut skin
he is waiting for my signal
arms lifted
full length and the emperor’s
cymbals are there, poised,
impending sound
he is waiting for my signal
a nerve taps in my ear
he begins
the sound of creation
the sound of death
tons of tones
and tomes
all matter disappears
you say I am creation
and I hold the juice and seed
of projects enormous
and small, I hold
your life time
your progeny
in my hand
like a thousand mustard seeds
like a leaf shooting skyward
through the marsh of light.
When you say I am creation
I want it all
I want every aspect
every instinct
like sex
that is animal
and sublime, carnal
and creative, you
and me and can’t we be
together forever
declarations.
Ecstatic union.
I want us to be
marked by our appetites
and passions of body
I want us to be
Pro-creation
In creation
I want nothing diminished.
ah yes, I like playing
god, a slow pondering
god who wakes
up on a grey morning
declaring this is the colour
of heaven today,
because then we allow
all to slow down;
collectively sigh
#
we play in creation
as a small detail -
a driftwood construct
in idle hands,
a bow of a ship
in creative lands,
a boon to sailors
taking a leap,
like faith is uncharted
and needs a flag
#
I want to re connect
again so that we
can know the happy
versions of us
and hang out with the happy
versions of each other
and have fun with the happy
versions
we have created
when I touch
when I burst into tears
when I read how well
you – a stranger –
are doing in your earthly
incarnation
simply being you
I touch a golden
beam, it brings lightness to
every tree, tall slender sky
scrapers dropping dew
like windy days, seeds
falling in grace
falling in delicate patterns
shaping the entire
story of our planet
you are lightness
falling into grace
bare foot naked soul
walking still
and the mountain top comes
an earthly brown
centre like the molten
cosmos, rising to an early
dawn and the golden
spectacle that even
those sure footed mountain
goats pause to create
their pleasure, the devil
laughs a lusty light
procreation is a story
observance is a mountain
a seer is a bare foot naked soul
I am the mystery in the core
the penultimate line in the story
that story in the middle of the play
covering the span of all births
I am not the restricted sense of
memory that shows above ground
as iconic landmarks in the myths of
me and my creation, I am
memorial, songlines passing
around us like hash that holds
a circle
together and whispers truths
and sweetness of freedom
I am the smoke of Evaporation
into the midst of darkness
signalling a new being
(that of my creation)
signalling a readiness to be …
