Because I Miss the Sky

Still point of black light -

the root of matter

is a spark of unsolvable darkness

so radiant

it cannot be seen.

It is a deeper octave of space -

ether curled into an ear.

I listen as I am:

the bell chime’s unfurling wings

braided into negative space synchopation.

Here is God’s eye as a shimmering field of grasses

waving halos of looping light through sticks and seems.

Its sizzle is my throat

This hollow is my womb.

Flatness, distance and harshness blur.

Articulate stillness swells

inside a breeze weaving mist

in blue- found space

floating like star- seeds

from the burst milkweed.

This drifting cinema

gauzy clouds

sueded white fringe -

Here is your beaming garment

in silvered blue velvet.

Like rain falling down in straight lines,

I want to sing slowly between the streams

of sunlight.

And return again to my Indian home –

sky-lake reflecting

water breath floating

in radial silence.

There is no space that is not me.