you have to be in the
moment to realize
the moment is eternal
godliness
the moment is passing
instantly but there eternally

we come from each other’s
bodies
we are made human
by the sound of
our mother’s heart
by the sound of
her blood circling
around us like warm
soft rivers

my spirit leaves
its body coming
out of the doorway,
bicycle in hand, into
the blinding wind
and above-freezing, sunny
noonday

alive in the light
snow/rain/thin slush
streets, the shining streets
casting me up hills
with the help of the wind
my spirit running leaves
aching belly behind,
met by dogs and 5
old men, 2
smiling ladies

find my bike growing
out of the forest
shining with soft cedar
and smelling like
woodsmoke
get on it and
roll wetly connecting to the street
is salvation

connecting with her
before my departure
because the car
was stuck in the mud

the wind helping
us to heave it
loose

the pink and orange
sunset drift sky
like the desert
black trees throwing themselves
against it

the fields white and
coated with ice gleaming
like great black bodies of water
right at level with
me
then the pink horizon
becomes the ground
and I fly into
it through living
rooms
and I fly into it
through bath
rooms where the faucets
have heartbeats, my
pulse in the water
letting my spirit rise