On Valentines Day, the first face I saw is the voice, each to each

of Love for all humankind, through, by and with all humankind

The Unfinished Poem

I picked a Rose one day

To smell the Body of the World

I have never written to another Body

A poem to another than

The Body of this World

A body that brings two Worlds together

Could Touch only the Mother of the World

And only Her voice could Touch me.

For touch and smell and sight are

But the music of the soul

For those that live inside

The World Snake

For I have yet to see the Soul

Whose Voice touched me

Never have I met one

Whose voice could not be matched

By the sound of all the Bodies of the World

Though they live only in the cemetery of life

And not the Garden

The music of this poem competes

With the Shadow of the Tree

Of Life and Knowledge

For I am complete without this Shadow,

This other Body

This is a jealous music I hear and speak

For who could touch me more

Than my grave and my womb?

And if I be touched by such

A Shadow as the Evening

Do I lose both?

The Evening that walks

In moonlight in the day

The Shadow that hides beneath a noonday Sun

Your voice does compete

With the inspiration of a god

And the dark water beneath

Our moon

Does bring the breath of night to noon

Our bodies speak a Tongue

That only Love can hear

The gods not here

Know not the feel of myth

Such feeling begs this life

To be taken from the earth

For I would have no other knowledge

But his Rose was

Picked by such as you

That I, like you,

May live and die each day

This Tree is Love

That our worlds always say

Our words to touch

Would sun and earth

Become- forever

An unfinished poem

For if Universal Love

Be like a Rose

Immortal in the Body of the Earth

One body with a voice as hers

Is the eternal death of God

And makes this poetic voice

Wonder if Universal Love

Like our own bodies

Could be a mortal thing

Then is it not the greatest curse

Against the World

To make Love real?

For there is one Rose that I have found

Though it stands in fields

Ne'er touched or seen by any

Man or Woman

That is a Tower built upon

The bones of every soul

Who has ever lived

And its life is the promise

And the poem that is

The Genesis of all faith

It sucks and soothes the

Blood of damned souls

And breathes for them the

Air of mystery divine

Called by each name

The silence of the grave

The name we give

Is story, myth, or even

Word of Body of God

For we that sacrifice

So much upon the slimy scales of time

Living Day to Day and

Year to Year in Psychedelic Sweat

Though ecstasy of life and death

Be the only value of knowledge and sound

For what is in a name

But so much more

For we that hold it in

Our hearts

A never ending shower

To be locked as much

Inside the human heart

For God is love

Kept one from one apart

Lest we should Love more than

The womb or tomb allot

Dare not ask if there be

More than ecstasy to life

Or more than mortality to knowledge

Any more than ask

If Love be real.

For We, to be, are ever learning how to Love

February 14, 2000