it has begun

in the rain

a bowl of oranges. a disco ball.

a cat in a bag. a dusty ashtray.

tree trunk full of little mushrooms.

a purple flower by my purple lighter.

the smiles of strangers, & my faith

now that i know i owe them nothing.

i owe myself - i owe this earth - i owe

ancestors & spirits. i want to live 

my owing life brightly

& with love. i want to pay back

& pay back & pay back 

generously & gladly

by living, by loving

first of all this spirit-vessel.

in the rain this body is moody,

can snuggle for hours. wants

to be kissed in the neck & held

like they are loved. now they know

they are loved. i love them. i hold.

still there is pleasure in the

unfamiliar touch

of another, in iridescent fingernails,

the metal of a lip piercing caught

in a kiss, the serious mouth of one

i might love. i did love, i do love,

i am back to a youth of tossing

love from my basket of love.

have it i have more to give.

but i will not let you take from me.

not now, not irreversibly. 

in the rain i tend

to my kitchen, my corridors,

my balcony garden for hours.

i dig into my compost. i am making

soil, dark & crumbly & rich. 

mud-stained, i nap in the rain,

in a warm hollow in my bed.

here is where it is beginning:

the rest of this, of everything. 

a blink & we are already in it,

in the gluey jelly of this moment,

in the giant steaming pot of time

that never moves & never stills.

there is more to learn & it is

crunchy & delicious to be alive.

& awful & aching. & warm & wet

in this rain. yesterday & tomorrow.