Movement and stillness

Dancer

With serpentine grace
she winds and unwinds
her limbs, flowing
and floating on the music.
She is the song embodied,
each movement a note,
the melody leaping
and swirling in her skirts.



Slow (Four of Cups)

Do not dismiss
the lazy pleasure of
drowsing under the fan
to the sound of drizzle.
Follow the cat's example,
stretching languidly,
letting the delicious
heaviness settle
on your limbs and eyes.
The world will wait.

Waiting and moving on

Waiting For Rain

In the dark downslope
of the month I brood
moody and swollen like
a storm cloud, cramps
thudding through me like thunder.
I wait for release,
for the floodgates to open
and the tension to be
flushed away.



To The God Of My Childhood

I cannot say
that You don't exist.
Your delusions are
shared by too many.
They make You real.
What I can say,
finally and definitely,
is No. No more.
Take Your sad pettiness,
Your destructive jealousy,
Your hatred of all
that is joyful in life,
and leave me in peace.
You and all that
Your followers stand for
disgust me.
I am shaking
Your dust
from my feet.