Buddess3.jpg (5522 bytes)

     (terra cotta sculpture)
                        -LaDonna Smith



The pool of nectar

That exudes from the lips of orchids

Seethes with ecstasy

Among myopic intuitions

A drop falls on the mirror!

The eye sees itself

The kiss of mud earth sticks to the bodies

That roll in bliss

That belong in the womb of mother earth,

She who steams and gurgles with life's gases

Beckons us to fall.

The below beckons us to sleep and understand.

The below calls with its irresistible voice,

Its thread of vegetable and reptilian arms

Wrapping around our bodies

Surrounding our spirit world with the love of dirt and water,

We weep with joy

As the mud cakes to our skin and drys to

Become the desert, that clean slate

Where the imagination lies waiting for the water.

The balls of our feet point heavenward as we rejoice

Our backs lie flat on the rough surface of the river bottom

As She (the imagination) drowns us with her beautiful pictures

The dreams, the architecture unknown.


She is a cave, She weeps with the rain

She soaks the sweat of the earth body

She becomes a river whose beginning and end are not known

She drowns the innocent and captures the daring

She destroys the evidence

She is the blade that slices the mother

But that which possesses the body

She is the daughter of the body, the body

Of earth, the solid, the inert.

She is the life line of potency

Her presence is illusive, but escapes not

The definition of the shadow

Whose depth proves the surface of

the material, the bread on which we rely

to sustain and to rot, creating the

floor of our eternal bed

the Mother is below, as the images

fly through the maze of seminal hearing

we lie with her always.


                                         -LaDonna Smith


More Poems...
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