Thirteen Moons: The Twelfth Bleed
A Year of Womb-Ritual for Nourishment, Harmony, Warmth, and Love
in the golden haze of morning and cream trumpets i face a giant splendor. sat in rows of circles, stitched into latticework, into bleating i become a wandering oscillation, a tightrope between poles. between darkness and spark. i am some fundamental welling turning matter, turning shape. lineage merging with the mid-point, a moan seeking cave. ~~~ the cobweb r e f l e c t i n g // s u n and diligence, i will myself into Spider: i grow four more limbs, four pairs of eyes. i slip under cover into my own miraculous writhing, my own planetary orbit. in the stratosphere of my singular desire my topography comes, alive. the sky, too... alive. ~~~ incantatory, in the underbelly-opposite beyond cliffside, the heat is trenched, and still beckons the sea, cool through the salt-cleft, a galaxy of bodies breathing shell. here our dreams curl into fog, lifted in the rhythm of sleep, then wake. then, sleep. into blood, into moon naked among men, passing fruit hand to hand in hand. we offer rose, we offer song. and the tide doesn't whisper back... she wails. my breasts, buoyant in the salt, not unlike the wings of a Hawk. ~~~
~~~ the Earth reaches out an arm: stem extending through light, blossom-palm open, asking to know my lips. this bed tells a story and grows wild nasturtiums, and hope. grows secrets hiding in brush and skin. ~~~ heart kept light, opened through s l a n t e d scrawl. an angel recounts honeysuckle, carrying the breath of God like magma seeping into sea into steam, fading into a chase with the Spirit of Wind. and just like that we e m e r g e into plain fields: surely this is the holiest red, wet as the morning collapsing into itself. haze upon haze upon mallow upon haze. i offer my breasts to the sun, salt to the lagoon. and while i am busy becoming an estuary, Hawk, too, is finding her way to the next place. ~~~ suckling figs as daughter of fire, as seer, i am pulsed into my ultimate freedom. and i roll with it, become a ripened berry. some hand squeezes me into juice.