A free style poem for Writer's Cramp, inspired by Uncle Walt's work.
|As satellite, I spin myself
and I am spun by greater hands
which afterward fold into prayer:
palms pressing appeals like treasure-petals
into cherished scrapbooks of gratitude
as gift for earth, or deity, or goddess,
or whatever we cannot conceive.
As explorer, I map myself
and I am led by greater worlds
which afterward play into dreamtime:
multi-dimensional dialogues with divinity
swept onto canvas mind in fine strokes
of evening indigo, or apricot, or burgundy,
or however coloured a spirit we become.
As poetess, I bare myself
and I am clothed by greater garments
which afterward rise on laundry lines:
Tibetan flags flown only to disintegrate
invoking mantras elemental as air
offering juniper, or incense, or herb,
or whatever appeases my recipients.