Scriptor Press - The ElectroLounge

64
Become this singing, melody’s devilish liquor,
rhythm’s alluring bamboo bed, ever a muse bright
secreted in pink, dancers bid deeper joining
with exploding muscles & stretching bones,
a moment wild with hurry, every moment’s
ever wider yaw, this singing beyond choice,
beyond purpose, the greater when no power
nor shaping is refused.
Become this singing, this willing, this
submission’s pleasure-awled trance. This
mother of every touch, father of every
throb, tribes gathered from & through &
among this singing. Heal what can be,
I pray everywhere. Give me to this. Tonight
I disappear unto a thousand open delights.
Become this singing, lastly & again,
the hiss of every choosing’s mystery,
what saves me to my bed another day,
what tickles me into sunlight,
what I dream for all with daisy petal’s glow.
This singing for you, accept it, it matters. Respond.
***
The Cenacle / 54 / April 2005