Thursday, April 23, 2015


Rare fortune to witness the wonder of a pair of vultures
cleaning bones of a dead fox on rocks in deep wood
finding themselves discovered under the gaze of dogs and I.

As we approached the cliff they rose in absolute silence
with the fundamental sacred beauty of their power to float effortlessly
up and above to wait for us to pass. They had no sense of their wondrous beauty, their performance.
As much as the remains of the fox, we're simply witness to their innocent, inevitable being.

Your beauty fills me with wonder and desire.
Without performance,
Your every move, the dance; the dance, your inevitable being.
"Touch me, dance, and let me trust you."


Sacred dance extempo-rare, I dare
recall my strength, possessed to embrace your fair
swooping arc unbound, unbroke, rebound
to balance perfect time to perfect end, a dance woven into life.

At the window, in the street, as I breathe
Sudden dreams electric shudder chakrac isles
Shiver neck, envelope heart, course current wile
To quake desire, remembrance
embodied vision, aftershock after shock, we dance.