deep inside
finding my Mother
the Bosom of my Mother
and resting in the tender caress
of my cheek
Wrinkling my nose
at the fetid waters
of the swamp…
in my small wooden rowboat
the reptiles
letting my hand run
over their slick surfaces
gathering them
to my own Bosom
against stainless garments
Letting the dark and the light
take turns
with my body
always in the lap
of the Great Mother
never taking my eyes
from Hers
One Taste
drenching the battle
between the round-bodied mitochondria
and the stalky nerve filaments
with mother’s milk
and the tinnnngg of a single bell
sounded from the top of a green hill
There is no separation
there can be no separation
I let the hunch-backed man issue forth
from a twisted mouth
my hand upon his back
I let the shaking child
squat in her own filth
even as she is lifted
into the arms of Angels
There is no taking sides
for they are all right
and all wrong
Twisted fortune and confused innocence
I let the wail issue forth
I let it shake my being and move my body
flailing gestures
seductive gyrations
enraged stomping
the aborted expression
of the infant who drools
the child who grabs
the adolescent who swears
and smokes a spliff on the street corner
I see them all now as the warm, slanting sunlight
heats my living room sofa
and caresses my bare shoulder
even as the fog descends
pulled in from the ocean
by the sweltering heat elsewhere
strewing in my driveway
in my village
and no where else
like a light rain