tenderness
tender i am to this tear
in my heart,
knowing how presence will bring flowers to sprout from
the ignorance with which i respond to ignorance
and knowing that tearing and healing and salving and tearing again
is the kind of justice my spirit beckons
liberate the innocent
incarcerate oppression
i would loft anchors at the windows of the establishment
and scream fire to remind myself of love’s gentle combat
i would take axes and split the bones of dove-tailed monarchies
holding out their wings, i would make peace with the tornado makers
and ornately i would decorate the dervishes
in the almanac of spiritual guidance
there are passages to be recorded from these experiences
and held in hand for experiments in combustion
the mind with all its channels,
this gentle buzz in my heart
something tells me you will understand,
i know you understand.
all this panic about not connecting,
all these feelings of not being heard –
how silly. i can hear it myself.
it goes, beat, beat.
there’s madmen on the streets
a lot like you and me
there’s paupers in power
who’s hearts have gone sour
and all the while the trees,
i rub your hands, i touch your knees
when you bend for me you show me the flexibility to receive
it’s drizzling dew in february
my eyelids are dropping
subdued by faeries
angels of the time,
come to life now,