The Anatomy of Wonder

Art by Christian Schloe

I have been down that path

twice before. It has 

no more gifts

to offer me.

Within.

I have gardens.

I have oceans.

I have skies.

I walk in dreams.

where not to go?

I string out infinitely.

Nothing will stay me.

I am imprinted upon

the skin of the ether.

can i protect myself

from this crude vulnerability?

Here comes a new gathering—a

portal, unraveling.

Oh, Self-Discovery!

I have body.

I have wings.

My spirit hums,

long-breathing and bold.

this moment 

contains every moment

I leap,

brazenly tracing

this new unknown—

un-invisible, my being

painted with sensation.

Shine

The Guardian, Freydoon Rassouli

You confront me with such graciousness,

My Shadow!

You wait . . . and persist.

This time, I am the one

who is distant, far away.

And you?

You are the patient one,

the evergreen vested with endurance,

the poised, assured watcher on the hills.

I leave the shore

in search of other unknowns.

I sail . . . remote, ineffable, stitched with 

the music of the wind.

I live everyday life 

with acute attention to detail.

I attach myself to the unspoken.

I feel your voice inside me:

Not knowing is a source of knowing.

Emptiness is a necessity.

I search elsewhere for miracles, 

entering deeper into the unknown.

And you?

You pursue me

like Pan does Echo.

You dwell within me, My Shadow.

The joy of your presence twists

oh, so deeply!

within my being.

My breath falters.

You mirror my movements.

Your lips graze my teeth 

with their closeness.

If tomorrow’s sun doesn’t shine . . .

I abort this. It is not your voice.

Nor is it mine.

A window opens inside me.

A door. 

    A ceiling.

A stairway.

The sun is high and bright.

Intense. Ubiquitous.

Why do I still have questions?

I ask myself.

And, I hear you sigh inside me

and—with empathy—mutter,

Emptiness, Dearest.

Anti-Gravity

Art by Dan-Ah Kim

Once again . . .

The promise of sanctuary.

The insolence of perfectionism.

or, should I say

the sanctuary of perfectionism?

Whatever I name it,

it beckons.

This time, I decline the offer.

I no longer constrict myself.

no more armor.

Instead, I crack myself and 

open wide the mouth

of the wound.

what pulls me, now?

I am inclined towards

the quiet wonders

that sit before me

in silence and listen.

what do you want me to say?

In the space between us,

the softness glistens

like stardust.

I can cry, if I want. I can let

the image reflected in my eyes dissolve . . .

like millions of undulating raindrops.

But, I cannot lose that image.

Or, can I?

what pulls me?

Nothing is permanent.

Not this.

Not anything.

I sit it out. Let it pass.

let it go.

The heavens are here.

Stars. Stars. Everywhere.

Untethered Inquiry

Art by Gustav Klimt

After Hurricane Harvey

*****

I’ve always kept certain questions 

tucked away like forbidden 

family secrets.

Yet, something has shifted,

these last few days.

what is this helplessness?

what is this vigilance?

what is this hope?

What is the source of these inquiries?

What is triggering them out of

placid hibernation?

Can this be?

Can it be I attribute inspiration

to the intensity with which the sky falls?

But, that is far too complicated for today.

Today. Today . . . I am happy

with the simple things.

I am happy with the wind in the trees

and the crunch of dry(ing) grass 

beneath my feet.

I am happy with the song of September

enveloping my waist like so many

curious yet subtle fingers.

I am happy with the trill of the bird,

imperfect and uncertain as it may be.

I have learned 

that the heavens 

hold enough water

to saturate the earth and 

make it plead with overwhelm.

And, I have cried, because

some forms of abundance

are cushioned with tears.

But, though I have been pounded by an

unleashed dam, today, my spirit

fills to the brim with a craving

that gushes from this world

into the far beyond.

The fallen blossoms from a crepe myrtle

scatter in the thickening morning.

Last night’s moon hangs 

from the clouds—an

echo, a remnant, a

revenant.

Like a thirsting willow, I unfurl my

splendor cautiously. Bowing down, 

I deliver, and I receive.