full-moon lunacy in the heavens
lightning bolts being tossed like javelins
thunder rolling from there to there then
cracking, smacking, crunching the air
and the earth trembling
and then – release:
rain, in huge drops, splattering, bouncing rain
hour upon luscious hour
heaven is right here!
how can one describe wetness on skin
quenched thirst on tongue
damp earth-fragrance in nostrils?
likewise, heaven defies description
it is here, it is here!
There was a shift.
The big breath that ceaselessly moves around the earth changed its path.
It exhaled a new perfume.
Its touch on the skin was clammy.
It called and I could not refuse.
Out I went, took up tree pose beneath the Poincianas,
waiting, in the company of a host of parched and thirsting creatures,
scaly ones, crawling and slithering ones,
feathered and furling ones,
all of us wrapped in the dry embrace of cracked earth.
It came, a surging orgasm of blessed benediction.
It roared its song in shimmers through
the wetlands of my body.
The raw awareingness of my senses,
inseparable from those of tree and earth
bird and beetle,
is saturated in wild wet delight!
butt on cushion
body is one vast eye
the eye of I
body is a thousand-armed antennae
the hearing of I
body is perfume-breathing breath
the nectar-nose of I
body is an ocean of tentacles
the feeling, touching and tasting of I
I sees, hears, smells, feels this new day
without a trace of any yesterdays.
I is this new day.
“You are the world!” Krishnamurti insisted
nothing to be sensed,
no sentient beings
no sentient beings?
nothing to sense,
the great knowledge of indigenous peoples
makes profound sense
of the sensuous:
nomads tracing songlines
gypsies ritually roaming
walking, singing, painting, dancing
world-ing the world
in inextricable intimacy