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School Bus
I come to in the back of an old abandoned school bus,
Broken down, with flat tires, in an overgrown field,
In the midwest,
in the summertime.
Everything is still around us.
The late afternoon is balmy
And the only thing moving,
Are our lips, against one another’s.
Permeability
My body is a scintillating mass of particles
sequins upon the ocean
Expanding and shrinking
In sacred dance.
Starling murmuration,
Aurora Borealis in my mind…
Spindle-thread fibers
expand in to silk scarves,
Arching their sinuous backs,
and opening their chests in ecstatic reverie
Twisting, turning, stretching…