CONFESSION ZERO

I can see her moving. I can see her breathe when the moon lights my way from beginning to never end. Help me cope with the night music composed of human thoughts. Overflow, stone blown, I can walk all the way to Maxine’s to find their Love. Maxine’s Tap Room- spirit dancing all night, music lifted by the treble, flung by the bass, enter the cat, fly the parakeet, scurry the mole, emerge the man. Rich as a thief we’ve filled our emptiness with deceit! Let’s roll with the tide! Let’s bake and sew and plant the seed that borrows all. Let’s flow with the current, think of Life as Love, breathe in with Love and exhale your new-found Love. Come one! Come all! She’s dancing long and dancing bit by bit, her feet are tired, worn away with our use, our last refuge painted gold like the sun and black like the deep, purple as the Orchid, white as the swan, head raised in defiance of truth! The tail comes off the lizard and it grows the same one back, yet, it’s not, its equal and as va

Starting, the band of color that’s stretched taut without a sin- Why then, skip the best part, that which flings your wits to Heaven only to go on shrieking at what you’ve created at your feet. Alone we cello the depths to find eternal life that’s always been just beneath, always lapping at our toes, under us the whole god-fouled time! Bow. © 2011 by mark prime

My love for you has not finished with its lesson; that rigid thing that stands between Love and greed, between affection and fear. The mother, Grandmother and Great Grandmother, and her mother and hers that is created from air, from her that is before her and before her and before her and before her, bow, bend upon your knees and kiss her weeping loam. Hold her near your breast; suckle her wisdom forever that she might feel when her ship’s come home. © 2011 by mark prime

If it’s my dream come true, does it really matter how it ends? If I love my dream come true, does it truly matter how it ends? If my dream come true is green with life and blue with thee, does it matter how it ends? Oh! Bring me a glass of water to quench my looming desire! Place your cool fingertips to my forehead, the brow by which I worship at the temple that hears my prayers, that I might love you evermore. © 2011 by mark prime

The thread of Love’s forever blossomed; the thread of fear is most cumbersome at the bottom. Who will dare to ask that they be absent from this trial? Have you better things to do? Are you so wrapped up in your ideas you’ve no room for truth? Can we commence our spirits to walk with Love? Come! Let us begin anon. Take the lead that all might follow. Eternity kisses our wits and chides us for being so sightless, only to caress our striding limbs, bidding us to slow our pace, listen, reflect and love. Dearly to that which is beneath our glance, glance her in your waking dream, glance with her as lover, kiss her like you would your mother, on the cheek just because it feels as right as rain. Step. Step. Step. Good! Now mommy’s going to let go of your hand… only for a moment or two, but don’t worry, it won’t be like its forever. It’ll come to you nodding at your bed. It’ll creep into you like the picture of your devil. It’ll bring you sinking just beneath her grip. And in your s