Ephemera for a Harvest Moon

Just remembering the truth makes me dance.
This ephemera we call 70, milk star
in a tadpole's egg, reflection
of the Eye itself on ripples
of voluptuous petroleum night.

Harvest moon such silent thunder in my forehead,
I bathe in a breath-beam that lasers my soul
through a broken string of pearls, or are they
raindrops on a 67 Chevy’s shattered windshield
tangled in thistles just beyond the bright
blue tents of the homeless encampment
under Interstate I-5?

I am reminded of Sukka huts
in the golden vineyards of Shechem.
I am reminded of my vow:
nothing inferior, nothing supreme,
nothing separate, nothing equal -

Every facet of this jewel a rainbow prism
lit with the lie of distances,
and every heart an overflow of otherness.
Can anything be impure that is washed
in the blackness of God? 

You are I am you, two mirrors
face to face, nothing between us
but a luminous mirage where love plays
hide-and-seek with its own yearning.

How else could the sea of compassion
dance in a syringe
discarded among dandelions?
Behind the abandoned mental asylum
there's a garden: will you meet me there,
draped in your hospital gauze?

Those who see creatures of darkness
sparkling in the void will guide you
through the tall wounded sunflowers.

Ask Teiresius, who wears Raybans
because the underworld is so bright.
Ask the dead poet Jesus, still hitchhiking
on the express lane, where no one stops.
Ask the astrophysicist on Mount Meru,
the one with an observatory between his eyebrows,
listening for the first light.

Ask Tech Support from Benares
how to apply the azure tint of Ohm's law
to your transsexual cheekbones,
how to smother your tongue in gravitons
of honey from beyond the Milky Way.
I am reminded of a chocolate whirlpool
where diamonds are crushed
from the mastodons of my desire. 

O Shiva Sundaram, O Goddess Shambhavi,
naked night-swimmers in the well of my bliss,
O serpent of silence in the drum,
O spellbound motionless pure erotic dancer
who flails my body from its soul
and dons it for a sacred veil
to cloak your own divine nakedness -

Why do you taunt me, dripping with soma,
appearing and disappearing
in a fractal mist among the mushrooms
at the edges of my nerve meadow?

You wander in the wilderness between my nipples.
You nudge my belly with insatiable dispassion.
I inhale your kiss.
You un-poison my mind.
I am intoxicated with purity.
Open the wound of my invisible eye,
O Virgin Moon, whose soul is light,
whose body is darkness.

I have no offering but these words.
They are silent petals floating
on your ocean of shamelessness.
And whoever the flower was,
it has dropped everything
to become fragrance alone.

LINK: Hear a reading of this poem at SoundCloud.