Tag: bowel

Taken

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What takes you away?
What brings the lines
From bowels to forehead,
And understands nothing
Of what’s seen before you?

What holds you
Like a scarf on a cold subway
Clicking away
In a nice rattle
Of destination approaching?

What holds time so still
That a lifetime is lived
Experienced
Played
And given
With a softly exhaled breath
Standing atop
Naked and pointed?

What holds you steady
So that even rainbows don’t move
As you traverse this landscape
Narrowly escaping
A landslide of memories
Nobody told you to write down?

Embers of Your Heart (day 3085)

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I wanted to climb into the embers of your heart so badly
That I wrote your name in ink ten times
And spoke to the Gods the colour of your eyes.
Your hair bound me in embrace,
And when I took my breath back inside my soul
It was your braided hair with its loose end
That was my direction home.

Each peak of the surrounding alps pinched the crisp air
So vividly, so clearly, that the tingling
Felt within my altitude heart
Brought a reverie so daring and honest
That even the Sun began to expose a pathway
Leading from my very spot to your omnipresent aura
I could feel beside my soul.

Various shades of darkness rode the wave of mystery
Deep within the bowels of a murky and eerie call,
And the source of each ripple floating outward
Seemed to be the very depth of my footsteps forth
Enticed by my soul belief that your chasm,
Your pulsating organ of electric arcs
Was my guiding orb I could see
Even as I swallowed water as breath
And traced the silhouetted branches
That floated above my remaining thoughts.

A Stamp That Became Postmarked (day 3052)

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I wrote your name on an envelope
That closed and sealed with my mark
Long, long, short, two dots and two curves
A stamp that became postmarked.
I wondered there how long it would take
To find its way into your hands,
Would it arrive bent, curled?
Stained from a leak in a roller?
I wondered how high it would fly
Inside the bowels of an airplane
How cold those bowels would become
In spite the warmth so inscribed.
I hoped my meaning would be understood,
That my script legible,
And that each word that you would read
Would be read just as I had spoke.
And most of all, I wondered if
The return address would be saved,
So that your unique letter
Would be sealed
With a stamp that became postmarked.

Singing Bowl (day 2893)

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I cannot shake the essence of unlimited
Grand gestures that flow
Almost gutteral
From the moments I find twilight
Reaching around my corners
To awaken what beast
I sing my songs with.
My bones rattle,
My mind expands,
My very being seems to float
Like vibrating melodies
Floating upward
From deep bowels of a singing bowl.

Gill To Gill (day 1586)

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Make me choke my Chesapeake Bay oysters
Down a long narrow tube called onion
On a salty slab of rust
That juts out from the corner
Of a jagged table now suffering the load
Of my humongous belly,
Sliced from gill to gill
And forgetting the kind manners one usually exhibits
While out dining with guests
In a trendy restaurant
On the East side of town.
Hold my napkin tight to my lapel,
And caress these breasts
That light the night on fire
Through a venomous spray
Of narcotics and other banned substances
Hurled deep into the bowels
Of an East Van back alley entrance,
Identified by a single spotlight
Casting lurking shadows into my side glances
And smelling of stale urine
Upon the disposal bin filled with sour milk.
Knock knock, let me in.

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