AVANT SOUL

I seek the you
Who showered with sunlight,
Is dazzling like the blue
On days
Which cannot be explained
In normal hours.


I ask then that you recall the present
And summon the intention
And have presence of mindlessness
To not be your usual headache
Of anxiety!

        Leave that mind
        Set.

        When has it ever served you?
        It has only brought you up
        Set.

It has only
Unsettled you.       Dang it, depart
From that blasted mind. Come dancing,
Come sing into this
Dewy clingy mystery mischief of morning.

There are infinite possibilities, you & I -
When we're together once again
Spilling over, cascading like healing honey -

Without stickiness
Without expectations.
How astonishing is that?


They've spent decades studying
What it takes for two people
To get along to sing.
To be astonished.
Why can't all my lovers have
THAT mind set?

Spun like light,
Float in periwinkle,
Reach now the glorious
Without effort ours,
Without overreaching,
Embrace in nectar.

Has sleep come at last?
What is yours, what belongs to the hours,
And what can it matter, enlighten me,
When every morning we choose to awaken
Dazzled with a jeweler's cloth, stroked clean
From the night sky with lasers of diamond stars
And the blackness of my loneliness is wiped away -

With you are infinite possibilities of love's power
To scour the crust of years when I've remained in sleep,
To eradicate the patterns from
The blackest of my howling nuns,
Scowling like habits under scornful gloom,
Frowning like Mother Superiors of inscrutable doom.

Begone, old hags of regret! Beat it, you crones of
Wasted acrimony! There's the door, you wheezing bags of complaints!

And while we're at it,
When I'm with you
I remember to forget
The insistence of others
To clutch to their viewpoints,

To man mean pocket moons of volcanic regret:
These are people turned away from the sun.
How can they be this cold?
Their mothers wear shoes two sizes too small
Their fathers smirk and aren't ever home
Now they're your neighbors, your statesman,
And they're loaded with progeny for this world,
Sullen children, cold rotating orbs of mendacious confidences.

No, I shall NOT invite them to tea.

Who sponsored these people here,
To snatch the tunnel vision of their reality, as if
The splendor of every falling star and supernova
Fit in constricted wallets and pinched purses
Of their black stitched brains?

Can the moral majority be reptiles?

I need to speak with the local blueprint planner
And give him a smack!

No, I shall not sup with them to share
My spicy angel cakes laced with the fires of my dreams.

Even their lips are pursed
With the dried leather
Of parsimonious certainties. 

How can we share a planet with others
Who appear, from our emphatic eyes,
To be the worst kind of mental bigots?

Might we ever remember times of our own limitations?

Could we recall that futility to engage in constant battle
With monstrous, smeary, staggering tar babies of others
With sincere, tiny and very idealistic rolls
Of our absorbent paper towels?  I will stop evil! 
I will avenge oozing injustice!
But first, I'll buy the 24-pack of liberal paper towels at CostCo.

I shall emerge victorious over the forces of Darkness.
I have my paper towels.

Yes, we all should take a stand,
But let's talk about you, lover.

Did you remember the people you've neglected,
    ~ ~ Waiting ~ ~

In an unorganized wilderness of your immediate life?

God's unfathomable majesty is that we're each here
With giants, some genius, the trolls and shrill troglodytes.

    Were WE to lack the Creator's compassion,
    This world would be far more like us.

Never try to spin your silk purse of reason
    with a pip-squeak at a place of worship,

Even if it's troll on a toll road near a synagogue or mosque,
Your place of battle is not having a fling
On high moral grounds.

Does the troll sing?  Does the troglodyte dance? Is the bigot astonishing?

It cannot be your place to unlock doors of barricaded minds.

Is this then what you came here for?  Love IS almighty,
And when we're with our inspired others,
We might choose to remember
Not to take personal shovels to start chipping away
At humongous mounds of suffering crap
Within this domain.

What do any of us gain?

What's the point to try to dress the tar baby
When the enormous baby is one hundred stories tall
And it didn't ask for your fashion advice?
My, that dress looks so flattering on you,
But you're dripping tar all over the oil fields!

What do you profit? What do you stand to lose?

Come, hug the monstrous infant closer (bring the feathers of your wings)
And become covered with tar -

Even martyrs need to be
In love to remember to forget
Not to reason with an unreasonable
Populace who hold fast to views like corsets
In order to reign in dazzling solar flares
Of persons they might become -

They would have to give up some security. Not much.

But an enormous amount of insecurity!
They'd have to give up arrogance
That a Supreme Almighty created this Universe
Only to squeeze into narrow pocket change
(Heavy on the starch), their personal entitlement . . .

Yes, God created the Universe
Only for you, dear, isn't it grand
That we watch you hold court
    With such compassionate views.

        Not much to ask ? - Ha!

Sows' ears, soaring like comets,
Should they share some of the excesses of their comforts.
What's that, could it be a miracle? Or is it a pig's ear flying through space?

Of all the sounds the angels make
You can rest assured they do not oink.

Beloved - - - let's dance on pin holes of volcanic suns
During an eclipse of enlarging irises of the Creator's eye,
Then, roller skating on slopes covered with Teflon ferns
Dive headlong into velvet rain forests of our canopy bed,
Where, levitating over the pretense of limitations,
We forget that we live in zip codes which ever had freeways.

There is no congestion here
In the infinite imagination
When we're a team together.

Returning to the daily grind of caffeinated duties,
We must remember not to react
When at last we're reunited.

Meanwhile, a word to the wise:
Don't engage mean-spirited, pockmarked moon people.
It isn't our place to surprise or supervise
Pinched undergarments of another's understanding.

                Hey, get outta there, that's by invitation only!
                But you can barely breathe!
                I want to loosen those tight concepts for you!

You must rarely seek to alter the spirituality
Of another person's underwear.
You don't belong there.

Yet if by a miracle our infectious joy
Might help release pressure-pot lids,
They would surrender smug, ferocious certainty
To a more generous spirit than ever they have known.

                       
Of this I am certain
Now more than ever
My magic belongs to awareness,
And awareness isn't my invention.

                                I cannot want

Or require credit for this place - this Creation.

I need only to be charged with creativity.

Lasting influence may only belong
    In my immediate sphere,
My reach of gentleness,
A stretch limo of joyful possibilities.

I am flawed, limited, and not here long -
Yet I belong not to this failing body
But to the birth and rejuvenation
    Of local Eternity.

            My exit Visa?
A small request to give up needing to be in charge,
To return it back to God.

                    It was given to me -


I ask then that you remember
When we will once again be together,
To cascade in honey like the healing from nectar,
Spun like light, whirling to an electric horizon,
Giddy in the periwinkle of wisdom,
To reach the glorious


Which

      Without effort
Is ours