the human who smelled like mushrooms

the grass is tall,
not as it were in Summer, and it’s wet
just as it was in Spring
we dream,
poet and poetess alike
weightless…
world changes its shape.

I know her,
from somewhere I can’t recall
and she smells of mushrooms, poetry, life and soul;
she stretches her hand and constellations of stars fall
like rain,
like meteorites seeking resonance in a gravitational pull
to land;
crushed, decimated, primal
(I don’t know her!)
but we’re ethereal,
seeing light in death and in light seeing life
she smiles…
music plays in different notes,
chairs move and dance with the floor
reflections intertwine, cats disappear…
so where’s God?

this world is too small to contain huge hearts.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s