O lovely light
Passing away this night of love
You, enthralled by the stories in your blood:
By what the land said to the grass,
What the mountain said to the plains…
…The soul’s village opens its windows to see
How a star falls
How a cloud is torn by the wind
How fields look like medals on the shoulders of the land
How a women reaches orgasm
How the rain slaps me in the frosty nights.
There, hearths are brimful with fire.
A woman in love wears her slumber
Gets up warm in the morning….
You have gone back to love again
To die upon the altar of a woman…
From Her Book, One More Time
Her seesaw is me and she is my seesaw
Her two doves are shivering in my fingers
And her cup is full of my wine
Her space is redolent of my kiss
And her kiss is swimming in my space
The organ pipes shudder and the violins get drunk
Golden deer fly through the sky
And the skin of the earth starts to tremble—
The pearl of weeping becomes a river of firebrands!
That’s how astonishment always comes out of her book!
Flowers of Flame
Copyright 2008 by Michigan State University