Bliss: 11 Choruses
phishgod
Posts: 133
Bliss: 11 Choruses
1.
For we
are coming
together under
the stars,
as ordained,
our cosmic
re-birth real,
riding it
seems, the
same wave,
ubiquitous joy.
2.
Three weeks
from day
after tomorrow,
I shall
ride to
you on
the far
fair winds,
sleek and
moon-blown,
intersecting vortices.
3.
Beyond far
mountains, where
the azure
sea greets
the sundown,
where Rainier,
Hood and
The Sisters
mark our
ecotopian dreams,
melting souleyes.
4.
Sun, mists,
the emerald
garden, rainbows
span butte,
valley, lava
falls, fire,
ice, we
are home
within each
other, wherever
we sleep.
5.
Magic Eggbus,
plying I-5,
bringing you
safe, free,
individuated,
emancipated,
the perfectly
precise measure
which brings
our heartsouls
joined, again.
6.
From far
south bay
to new
safe harbor,
from Great
Shield to
new Cascadia,
unfettered tongues
blaze, baggage
carousels humming,
our lovesong.
7.
Two and
one half
weeks, faires,
beaches, falls,
woodland nymphs,
fir forests,
fairies, elves,
dreams, our
enchanted paradise,
now joining—
place, people.
8.
We seek
Beauty in
the Truth
of each
other, this
mixing of
place and
people our
new geography,
our beginning,
again, certain.
9.
There is
perfection in
this merger,
which we
see, understand,
intuit, write,
and thereby
see again
with new
eyes, visions
now alive.
10.
Unity in
this blessing:
finding, being
found, the
awesome amazement
at how
easy and
comfortably we
blend into
our future
as One.
11.
We explore
the new
bliss this
eleventh hour,
as we
reset our
clocks to
a new
time of
“we”—reborn,
bliss, coupled.
--June 11, 2002
@pth
1.
For we
are coming
together under
the stars,
as ordained,
our cosmic
re-birth real,
riding it
seems, the
same wave,
ubiquitous joy.
2.
Three weeks
from day
after tomorrow,
I shall
ride to
you on
the far
fair winds,
sleek and
moon-blown,
intersecting vortices.
3.
Beyond far
mountains, where
the azure
sea greets
the sundown,
where Rainier,
Hood and
The Sisters
mark our
ecotopian dreams,
melting souleyes.
4.
Sun, mists,
the emerald
garden, rainbows
span butte,
valley, lava
falls, fire,
ice, we
are home
within each
other, wherever
we sleep.
5.
Magic Eggbus,
plying I-5,
bringing you
safe, free,
individuated,
emancipated,
the perfectly
precise measure
which brings
our heartsouls
joined, again.
6.
From far
south bay
to new
safe harbor,
from Great
Shield to
new Cascadia,
unfettered tongues
blaze, baggage
carousels humming,
our lovesong.
7.
Two and
one half
weeks, faires,
beaches, falls,
woodland nymphs,
fir forests,
fairies, elves,
dreams, our
enchanted paradise,
now joining—
place, people.
8.
We seek
Beauty in
the Truth
of each
other, this
mixing of
place and
people our
new geography,
our beginning,
again, certain.
9.
There is
perfection in
this merger,
which we
see, understand,
intuit, write,
and thereby
see again
with new
eyes, visions
now alive.
10.
Unity in
this blessing:
finding, being
found, the
awesome amazement
at how
easy and
comfortably we
blend into
our future
as One.
11.
We explore
the new
bliss this
eleventh hour,
as we
reset our
clocks to
a new
time of
“we”—reborn,
bliss, coupled.
--June 11, 2002
@pth
rockon,
phishgod
phishgod
Post edited by Unknown User on
0
Comments
tissue?
very lovely
thank you
Tissue, yes thanks.
& it is late, so no time to stay and play, but I will leave a couple posts behind,
maybe more comments tomorrow.....
thanks for the read.
phishgod
spent waiting
for the luggage
to arrive
and intimate
public displays
of eyemelts
and kisses
your black leather
jacket falling
off one shoulder
the laced thigh
of my black stockings
hinting from beneath
linen hiked skirt
quite shocking
i'm sure--but how
the world dissolved
whenever
we'd meet
after weeks
of separation....
waiting, waiting,
the delicious
moments
beneath the kaleidoscope
of swirling terminal signs
as we swooned
waiting, waiting
and carousel
circling
for a green suitcase
or a blue duffel bag....
that the
whole world
could steal
our luggage
and the
(whole damn airport)
during that
ONE
incredible
Kiss, as
if our
breathing
mattered,
as we
inhaled
each other.
I wonder,
whatever happened
to security:
no one
ever bothered
to ask us
if we had
checked luggage
tags, even
if we
had checked
bags, one
blue, one
green, circling,
circling, circling
as we,
black leather
sliding
to the floor,
stockings slipping
down delectable calf,
and our embrace
remained locked
all the way
to the
parked car,
up escalators,
down elevators,
riding the tram,
who could remember
where we
parked,
or who
had parked,
and who was
flying, who
was coming,
going, flying?
So intense,
even today,
we still
stop by the
airport just
for a
naughty thrill
at the
baggage carousel.
phishgod