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.
Grounding Rain Poire del la Nuit Sleep werioiurew