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| Mom's wedding day: Mary Agnus Herbert (1914 - 1989) |
SACRED SPACES
Stonehenge, Hill of Tara
New Grange, Glastonbury Tor.
My sacred sites are her eyes,
Her nipples, the whorls on her fingertips --
Are the origins and insertions of her muscles
Are the places where her bones meet
Are the follicles of her hair
Are the pads of her feet, her buttocks, the slots
Between her toes.
ORIGINAL MOM
Admiring the play
Of morning light on your body
I imagine what brought us to this place
At this time, in our several eye-catching forms.
I am thinking of that primordial alphabet soup
from which we both emerged
Of our speechless common ancestors
copulating in warm moonlit marshes
Exchanging flesh-to-flesh life's salty broth:
the sacrament of sex
Our lusty lineage:
snake-like, cat-like, ape-like fathers and mothers
Do this in remembrance of them:
Eat my body; drink my blood;
accept my genes; bear my children.
I am thinking of the early macroplasm,
of the hot sticky honey of creation
I am thinking of Original Mind's
world-creating yearning
(I was a Hidden Treasure
and desired to be known)
Imagining how that Deep Maternal Urge
must have felt as she squeezed each of us
out into this bright world
fresh, wide-eyed, laughing, sticky, nude.
LOVING THIS WORLD
Each human language embodies
A new way of grasping with chatter
Ourselves, this world, its creatures
From microphage to Mad Hatter:
Nick's scratching his head for a language
To send valentine greetings to matter.
FUTURE SCIENCE
I wanna wham Mama Nature
in a warm wet dream
Wanna strum Her pond, palpitate Her stream
Wanna feel Her quiver like a tambourine
Wanna hear Her E equals MC scream!
Industrial-strength Quantum Tantra:
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| Hand Of Fatima: QUANTUM TOUCH |
