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Sam Hawkins Dec 2020
muses and priestesses
spin to the fore.

infinity of heaven sparks.

water everywhere prepares to speak.
earth and sky, to tumble as lovers.
surfaces to shimmer and split.

for every contained paradise
there are ten tie-downs,
and she, great mother,
has eleven freshened swords.

protector destroyer giver of life
she and she and she, all women,
mothers to all.

and to this it is, of this now
paradise come.
it is time
Sam Hawkins Dec 2019
Some could say: nature's lavishly attentive
ever blossoming to the extreme, on point.

Just so, the pearl of her earring
she wears in the photo seems
to have completely composed her.

Bare honesty rages, in picture left profile--
her stoic aquiline nose, upward tilt of chin,
late day sunshine through velvet curtains.

O, how sweet, her seashell ear.

That spiraling whorl converses with me,
as Water God Neptune might speak
of any innocence, of any liberation nature.

I see her as a little girl at seashore,
skimming her toes across tiny waves

dash-running, leaping laughing,
her parents nowhere near.

In this adult picture she might be thirtyish
and by heaven likely married.

Her pearl has captured one fleet spark.

Oceans and continents away,
I am regarding this and her.

I, whose heart's on fire.
Sam Hawkins Dec 2019
Was this your farewell to me, my friend?

You had crossed my mind today while driving
the counter-clockwise road,
that you were leaving (had left)
this world.

The Hospice place we knew
was hid behind the hillock.

And over its sign across my path just then
came a raven flying, caress cut the air
in a long glide.

In morning sunlight--there was green,
shimmered across its back and wings,

as if to announce eternal verdant springtime
and you -- as if you were chorusing to me,

hey **
waving good-bye.
Sam Hawkins Nov 2019
within the modern human of me
lives the innocent indigenous

within the indigenous
the modern

inside and outside
there is no difference

my heart my silence
humility sing

i am equal in importance
to a stone to a mountain top
to a grain of dust

no greater, not less than
Sam Hawkins Sep 2019
A split down the seams it was and justice
come--struck the bonds which held me,
to my pain, my enemy, me, this.

Touch aligned my heart.
Spoke calm and peace.
September 23rd 2019 today is Equinox. Daylight and night are equal. My heart energy felt like an equator around my body, receiving and radiating.  Earth and Sun at the same time. An awareness of Beginnings and Endings.
Sam Hawkins Sep 2019
Letters and print seemed not my language anymore.
Pen in hand I felt like a weighted foot.
My eyes tracked; I lost the scent.

But whenever I rhythm, rhythm free --
false underpinnings of me evanesce,
cease their being.

Alphabets break through school room doors.
Wall clocks split their faces.

Whenever I rhythm, rhythm gentle--
my heart its codes concoct--
make all green fresh alive

as sweet this earth
become green eternal springtime.

(my blood my body know
openings wanderings)

Whenever I rhythm, leaping leaping;
my mouth mouths, my breath breezes.

I am at one with shivers of sunlight.
I sing I sing:

kei quah rae sa
sa e cha nu

e cha nu quah rae
kei quah sa saaaaaaaa….
With this, you can make up your own rhythmical tune aloud, hear it in your head or read it in monotone. I remember times when I lived in a print-less world -- I was natural and wild, steeped in magical nature. You too?
Sam Hawkins Aug 2019
Today my walking seemed steady enough.
Considering the truth of flash, it's amazing that anything
can stand.

Sky and Earth flashing in and out of existence
faster than the speed of light makes any concrete
"here and now" truly a miracle.

My mouth and breath are locked and unlocked this way.
The list is never ending. Time and no time together.

When I placed the dog dish of food on the kitchen floor...
Miracle of miracles!

The food remained quite nutritious, stayed in the dish,
my dog regarded me with love; nothing fell into empty space.

Even now as I write, though multiple languages
and non-languages from many lifetimes
come and go, I still can show up, here.

Singing the praises of flash!
Do you hear?

What of this I, this you, who senses
all things everywhere.
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