tell me a story about Ecuador, I breathed
into your shoulder I dreamed you,
“I’m walking through the jungle with this guy
and he has a machete and he’s slashing
the jungle, making marks in all the trees
because that’s what you do, and we come
upon this tall white tree like a white birch
or something, and he slashes it and pulls out
the machete and it’s covered in blood
and he says this is the blood tree,
it heals people. They drink the blood
if they’re sick or they put it on their wounds.
I put some on my hands and I touch you
with these hands, and I rub you healed with these hands”

now I am so tired walking into a snow dream where I cannot see distinguished shapes-look out the window and the roofs are the same as the sky. and dogs come on the bus, come right to me, lay against my legs. and the people are all so beautiful like rock stars and buddahs each. The old women in parkas and lipstick. the black girls in designer business suits likes angels getting ready to make the world turn. the polite young boys getting up out of their seats to let others sit. the coffee some sweet nectar. the music my soul’s private ecstasy, letting my eyes bless everything they come across.

feather hair
brown rice skin
feeling the brush
of your fingers
over me
ghost blessings
my limbs welled with water
& memory float

river crackling
ice coming in, talking
in communion,
we’re gonna protect
this soft river underbelly
we’re gonna be a shield of living
freeze in yellow air
pink and yellow water hissing blue ice
being born is so holy, so easy
I summon you here
I summon you to my lips

He read , “everyone passed is inside me”
I counted time by the radio programs on npr –
the hours moving so fast in his arms –
bbc coming on
the tarot card I drew
a woman standing
on a ridge
looking at the sea
with back turned
a new journey – in between
3 wand trees

his skin sounded like seashells

a table of bells

a drunken piano

we both dreamt of floods
now the blues on the radio
interrupted for flood warnings
the river rising
the blues back on
the rain heavy

stare into the snowy pines so hard
I become them
I want to become you, at least for a little while

sitting here praying
sitting here rejoicing at what is
all right here
the rain & the floods coming in
swelling our rivers