Three mystical poems

Mostly musical these poems are happy to move along like creatures concealed in plain-clothed English.

Basura renge

Not perceiving but receiving magic
unmeasured and looking up 
through openings wide,
I call to myself as if to a campfire.
The light filters through as words.
That it is possible to fly 
calling ever deeper through recursion,
self propagating through its own made space.
Each dimension is a deity outstretched,
pointing new directions to view.
Doesn’t matter if they don’t exist,
they already emerged 
said as a spell, performative.

And it’s strewn here
like a bubble.

-

Waltz for Jin Chan

Three toed three legged 
three toothed smile,
waltz on a tripod,
a cauldron's beguile.

Deep dove the ladle 
from cradle to grave.  
Compact.  Tetrahedral.
I am only 2/3 of you  

who enthrone wherever you sit 
to engage your third eye.  Laughing,
your crown of gold splashes everywhere
generously.

-

 l’esprit de monter les escaliers 

Head tilting towards a passing faerie forest,
I let a howling tear release.
My desire will not die with me 
but find other bodies to lease.

Fire that finds no fuel merely rests.  
One day a flame 
will glance and cabaceo
 the fire will resume its dance of tango.

The light of another sky
lingers in my head
like fog so fat and well fed
it’s hard to find eyes to look by.

Something my memory wiped:
empty space a word should go
waits like an open hand
for fruit to fall into overripe.

-