I have this thought that the dead are more true
then the laughter of rain,
or that sudden silent smush
of ripe sunlight dripping on my bedroom wall.
In the apartment above my head
someone groans in a bathtub of barbiturates.
The drug company just listed 82 dangerous side effects
to their new designer drug that is suddenly popular.
I glance at a book with boiling covers humming
on my kitchen stool.
I put on the rooster hat a child gave me
and my coat made of glass.
Out in the streets I think I see a dwarf
dressed in rusty mail drinking grog —
but it is a stolen shopping cart.
I sadly remember the cherry-skinned peasants I saw
selling honey and socks at a Bulgarian marketplace
as I walk amongst dead-eyed shoppers with plastic
suits at the mall.
The wind lifts old dirty posters and makes them flutter
like white butterflies on a brick wall.
Suddenly turning a corner that isn’t there
you appear as if balanced on a bridge
between two worlds, a basket of laughter
in your hands. It overflows with red
suns and starlight. I see by the way you move
that you too love to dance in chocolate bunny shoes.
Taking my heart between your hands
you slowly blow a blooming tree into my bones.
I don’t know how you do such things
and ask, “Which way is the door to Valhalla?”
You smile and ask, “Who have you killed recently?”
I say, “The one who refuses to hurt and believe.”
You lift the corner of your dress and reveal
bare skin running like a freeway
towards the wild, pink mouth of God.
With that, I fall back into innocence
and the second world.


About Blake Steele

I am a poet, writer, workshop leader, recording artist... half monk, half pirate, passionate for Life and Love to triumph in the world. I'm American by birth, but am living in Sweden for a while: writing, growing, deepening with amazing, open-hearted people, as well as developing Wild Words Creative Writing Classes and Wild Souls Workshops around the world.
This entry was posted in Consciousness, Mystery, Senses and Spirit, Spiritual Freedom and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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