Create your first bowl, with thirst.
Natty love lace stiletto,
posturing wigwam mine,
sol seeking more sunshine:
you’ll be a swan someday.
Thwart any eye-gouging of the collector,
moral resolve will keep the dregs in check.
Nests made of eggshells,
Swann’s in recovery
here in the river, paved.
like the one-eyed turtle you search for enlightenment with burning belly and shell as cold as ice caps rise from a seemingly fathomless sea after 1,000 years for refuge in a sandalwood log but one eye reverses perception east becomes west and north south you say you are not one-eyed but woke early to the trunk of a palm perfectly visible
you say you are hungry thirsty numb your arm in night feels disconnected from shoulder shiatsu-ist says something was released leaving no connective tissue some accumulated mold of air that resembled you was removed
an enema for your blocked third-eye chakra sleep with rose quartz in pillow soak in salt water rinse repeat immature intuit-type reassurances sought by roadside psychics gambling matters of souls as matters of heart always decisions always difficult always fortunate
things are settling you found a yang rising issue from your acupuncturist rising fire with no root no ground heavenly tree bark prescribed for your herb package with smiles a bark from a heavenly tree pulls fire back to the ground finding footing again roads and scent
sunlight of each
Trying to resurrect a dead flower,
the child shrieks, “We must make it alive again!”