Gratitude felt like a handshake coming back.

Spring green leaf calling,
made echoes in me.

What a family this is!
Now that I have ears to hear!

In every cell of me,
a Universe.

In every Universe of me
a forest of magnificent trees

dropping discreet
and sometimes upsetting
messages.

with intuitive hand of polished sensibility
i turned the **** to crack my safe

dailed in universal consciousness
dialed in life good ole fashioned love
dialed my mother

but no
it was God all along
ha!

that secret place

one happy tear

earth & sun
pretty passionate lovers

but not by gravitation

full-opened body of earth
full sun

gaze upon
one another

teach

sensations of purples

streaks of luminous black
dashing my eyes

star woman her wisdom
my body

star man sliding into view

blissful laughter
echoing my heart

was it God Truth speaking?
Will you marry me?

Yes! Yes! I cried
And I shall marry you again
tomorrow!

whoever i am
i do not know

i do not know
whomever i am

i am who?

i am that which
is not known to me

this whoever i am
who knows nothing
is me

Cat three-tooth, cat stone-deaf, cat sidewinder walk,
Old Bealman stalked the croaking, the croaking,
with forepaws meek stroking
airs of a summer cool night.

Bealman, Bealman, Meow & Sealman,
Pacing, still racing, one two three man.
Bealman—frog fisher & free.

Delphinium, the roses, lupine interposes
a shadow of fortressed green leaf
disguises the notion my Bealman supposes—
to seize, dismember it through,
make self-concocted, dishering frog stew.

Bealman, Bealman, Meow & Sealman,
Pacing, still racing, one two three man.
Bealman—frog fisher & free.

Night hours accounting, morning’s surmounting,
a bird warning Bealman, his patience to thin.
Croaking still blending, a flower stalk was bending,
two legs, peaking out, sent Bealman straight in.

Bealman, O my Bealman, Meow & Sealman,
Pacing, still racing, one two three man.
Frog fisher & free.

I saw Bealman beaming; I saw Bealman beaming.
How cats manage beaming I’ll wonder again.
Since Bealman was twenty, any beaming is plenty.
I loved my old Bealman, my frog fisher friend.

Bealman, Bealman, My Meow Dear Sealman,
Bealman—frog fisher & free.

The chilly camp-like home where I was staying,
had no running water, in winter all shut down,
but had—amplitudinous electric.

I must have been thinking extra sharp that morning,
when to electric stovetop I came; soon had boiling
Cumberland Farm’s bottled water
in a copper *** with four brown eggs.

With careful timing at last I took the four eggs out
and with the heated water applying
Barbasol and razor, so I shaved.

Please take care to not spill a single drop
of soapy water into the winterized drain pipe,
I heard in my head my sage sister say.

I discarded the contents of the ***
into a snowy patch.

Good morning, and happy happy, I sang.
I hefted one oak log onto a dying fire.

Two of the four eggs I ate,
saving the last for leaner days.

So complete--eggs
and hot shave breakfast.