No Need to Ask

The one who brings wine pours again,

no need to ask.

Do you ask the moon to rise

and give its light?

When ranks of soldiers dissolve,

dismissed for a holiday,

when a lost hand reaches

to touch the rescuing hand,

when a candle next to a mirrored

sconce gets lit,

your presence enters my soul.

Up to the Neck

I sat long enough in fire.

Now I am up to my neck

in the water of union.

You say, Up to the neck

is not enough.

Make your head your foot

and descend into love.

There is no up-to-the-neck union.

I say, But for the sake of your garden

I sat up to my neck in blood.

You say, Yes, you escaped

the alluring world, but not yourself.

You are the magician

caught in his own trickery.

Cut the breath of self and be silent.

Language cannot come from your throat

as you choke and go under.

As a Wick Does

There is nourishment like bread

that feeds one part of your life,

nourishment like light for another.

There are many rules about restraint

with the former, but only one rule

for the latter. Never be satisfied.

Eat and drink the soul substance

as a wick does with the oil it soaks in.

Give light to the company.

A Great Wagon

When I see your face, the stones start spinning.

You appear. All studying wanders.

I lose my place.

Water turns pearly.

Fire dies down and does not consume.

In your presence I do not want

what I thought I wanted,

those three little hanging lamps.

Inside your face the ancient manuscripts

seem like rusty mirrors.

You breathe, and new shapes appear.

The music of a desire as widespread as spring

begins to move like a great wagon.

Drive slowly.

Some of us walking alongside are lame.

Inside a Country Dialect

A human being is like the rod

Moses held or the words

that Jesus said.

The outer is just a piece of wood,

or mouth-sounds of a country dialect,

whose inner parts can divide

the green ocean and make the dead

sit up and smile.

You see the far-off tents

of an encampment. You go closer.

There is a dust-shape, someone walking near.

Inside that, a man, bright eyes

and the strength of his presence.

When Moses returns from the wilderness

where he has gone alone,

Mount Sinai begins to dance.

The Flower's Eye

Find me near the flower's eye

that takes in provocation

and begins to grow.

Love is a baby that struggles

and fights, stops nursing, then runs out

through the door, escaping as a fire

jumping to the next burn.

The Nothing of Roselight

Death comes, and what we thought

we needed loses importance.

The living shiver, focused

on a muscular dark hand,

rather than the glowing cup it holds

or the toast being proposed.

In that same way love enters

your life, and the I, the ego,

a corrupt, self-absorbed king,

dies during the night.

Let him go.

Breathe cold new air,

the nothing of roselight.