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God’s Teacups

June 20, 2014


I’m not going to get this right

 because it comes from the doorstep

 of the dream temples of Asclepius

 and humans have a hard time remembering

 the hard and fast details of those hinterlands.

But in the dream,  I am driving along a freeway in a convertible

  top down, southern California clear day,

 no one on the road but me~

 when I look over to the passenger seat

 and see a man so beautiful he singes.

 I don’t mean physical beauty. I mean radiance.

 He’s beaming like a floodlight, smiling at me.

 And when he opens his mouth, his luscious mouth,

 out pours verse like I’ve never heard before.

 Yes, he’s singing in poetry, he’s speaking in symbol

 and metaphor, and nothing woos me more than this.

 So he begins to talk to me about god’s teacups~

 how every day grace is measured in god’s teacups.

 The sun is ringing his head with hummingbirds,

 and I am burning down the highway past skyscrapers

 and billboards for judgment day, thinking,

 now this is rapture. And then in a flash

 he is gone, and I am alone in the car, in my bed,

wondering how I will survive this absence.

And then I laugh, because I know I’m like a Victorian heroine

 out on the moors crying to the wind,

 when it hits me—I have mistaken the finger

 pointing at the moon for the moon, and the man

 for the love of Love. And then the grief

 leaves my body, and and god and I sit down

for a tea party, and I sip ever so slowly.


2 Comments leave one →
  1. June 21, 2014 2:29 am

    Your writing is so beautiful. I always look forward to opening an email from you!

  2. June 21, 2014 2:02 pm

    I turn on the kettle in preparation for making a cup of tea, open my email…o my.. tis a gift of solstice.. thamkyou for writing and for sharing bits of your world. my world grows larger for meeting you

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