Flecks of Gold, Deep as Amber, Laughing Like a River
In a spot of sun, looking down at the ocean, remembering
I was a kid who wanted to be Dostoyevsky
Rodin's mistress or the next Dalai Lama
Imagine my disappointment
Having to settle for being just another Jack of Frogs in a clusterfuck
Frogs don't couple
They fling themselves at each other and frolic in swamp water
Beautiful in a strange, grotesque, dangerous kind of way
When up from a dusty trail in the same old woods
where I have been croaking with abandon
Comes a boy with amber for eyes
Lips that could shatter a stony old heart
Curly black hair and a chuckle like sin
The boy with jewels for eyes
Just kissing his neck
Makes me think I could be young again
and nothing matters but making him smile
Pine needles crease his buttcheeks
He's so easy in his body and on this Earth
While I am busy buttoning up and walking away
After kissing his neck . . . and stuff . . . as much
as my nervy constitution would allow
Love is the river which is always the same
whenever we dare to dangle our feet in
Love is the ground of our being
Love is the space which houses all thought, all feeling
Love is the sun in the sky
always always always there
By virtue of what on a cloudy day do we see the clouds
By virtue of what on the darkest of nights do we keep
from freezing instantly to death
By virtue of what are we still standing
after plagues, slavery, famine, ethnic cleansing
Love at first sight isn't just possible
For some of us, it's necessary
We are made of nothing else
It doesn't matter if you're one screw loose
or kissing cousins
or sucking on the nipples of addiction
You never did anything . . .
I never did anything . . .
but for love
Even the memory of kissing Patrick
Makes a river that rises up and floods
over banks of disappointment rage frustration grief
This is the river as it always will be
Bringing logs and leaves and petals to the surface
To shine in the sun like living treasure
We fall and we fall until it's like jumping
Our chests mashed together
The Earth practically swimming with cleansing waters
For human eyes both dazzled and blinded by the world
One to behold and one to be held by
Eyes of translucent flecks: gold and green and saffron strong
Recalling the Primordial Forest and not a frog
not a frog!
Oh I feel eighteen again
With possibilities scattered around abundant as pine needles
This one Dostoyevsky, that one Rodin's mistress
I can love again
Whether it turns out to be Patrick or not
I can love again
And the world is new