With whiteout smudged on a finger I go after darkness,
then apply courtesy color to an apple at its center – the
stem of Adam is proud and protuberant, drawn by love
and the skill of my hand.
My likeness walks onto a stage and dances – twirling –
– chanting – till my lungs fill with the air I have always
wanted to breath, and somehow I am then reminded
to be me, stroking a canvas.
Dominatingly agile, and maddenly male, I de-thorn misery
from my fathers throne, and then gather brothers to me;
choosing from amongst them a better model of intention,
strength and morality.
Touched by a pearl and covered in pre dawn silk – I spin
cataracts away from my eyes like saucers, and imagine
that I am still the wistful boy with the temerity to make
up the beginning of anything.
Joy and joy, and as tall as a mushroom rising to the thrill
smell of ardor…and I do say, as I have often said, that I
am her lover and her friend, as well as the boastful king
bathing in the spring of her valley.
So move or stay, contemplate if you must; but to achieve
any one wish, do not plan your every move, instead
blindfold aspects of your ambition, until the flames of ten
former agendas fade and desist like sparks in effigies.
Wear nothing! Reveal everything! Be unafraid, and pound
at the foundations of your beliefs with ape bones – staring
into the mirror of your solitary and emergent soul reciting
poetry to your lover…
Tell her what you have not admitted – of your 1 and 50
fears. How all the molecules in your body grow in the
presence of her loyalty – how without her admiration,
nothing but the stars would shine.
Now turn and turn, and sparkle, and be your manly self –
strike with a sword and aim your tumid arrows, and don’t
forget to sing – to raise your voice with hers and rejoice,
for you are Man…dancing in the co-creation…