Stuttering for Sparks
Poems
i speak to the soul:
the soul of watering plants,
and laying table cloths.
i speak to the soul:
the soul of intimacy, of conversation and connection.
i speak to the secret, sacred soul,
the secret mournful soul.
i speak to you.
in this empty universe:
there is the breadth, depth and light.
there is much to explore and discover.
the life you know is not yours.
it is a movement in which you are a part:
a transition in the symphony.
the loneliness you feel is but transitory.
the story is a story you chose.
hark! hark!
the heart is wild and passionate.
the head is full and heavy.
the heart is hot and furious.
the head is slow and sullen.
all these things, and you cannot know:
flee, fast, fly, grow.
move.
i stayed awake through the night.
i held a girl until the light.
the curious intimacy of sleep came over me.
i slept, solidly, soundly, in her arms.
the next morning I left, and the memory remains.
still.
i walked alone through the forest.
it marked my bare feet.
i was not alone.
and the owl called toohoot! toohoot!
i replied tweet! tweet!
i felt the restlessess of the wind in me.
i felt the movement.
i listened to the sounds.
evoked. provoked.
i began to move, to dance, to create.
i am a soul: in a body, a mind, a heart.
sputtering for sparks: forgetting the truth of the forge.
i am the fire. as are you.
