My orbit sacred soars

casting it’s spell, inscribing its note, indelible

harking and larking across the body of space

it’s molecules proud and drunk with giddy being.

 

It weaves the angles into flying arcs of joy

echoing, rebounding around the dome

of God’s own laughing fields

where sweeping lines bump into, bounce off

flirt and pirouette, meld and interlace

rushing as headlong lovers fused in ecstasy

along the curling lip of time

like strung out passion’s kisses, slow and luscious

driving my engine wild and whirling

breathing, shaping, sounding

my own untamed spectral song.

 

It plunges grammarless, roaring, rampant

every atom twanged with shivering delights

the marvelling emptiness  uncreate, inbetween

hermetically, blackly vacuumed

filling me up, bursting my seams, exploding my seed-heads

dangling ahead of each incipient word

- the next smoke-ring of love’s own expansionist game

no distance lost or found, within or out

its classic formula roguishly paradoxical

and shot off its synapses, quantum-lept

like the maddest embodiment of thought:

the unholdable fauna of my darling mind

its images random, unmathematical

its logic inchoate

bound to no rules or law, methought

- until I saw, with my cyclopean eye

(suffering no extenuating circumstances

separations, durations, conditions, excuses)

my flight path etched, indecipherable

across the galaxy’s impossible drawing board

mirror-refracted, prism-split

precipitating on the very rim of momentum

into the skin of Matter’s stuff

- that squelchy, scrunchy, feely, yummy stuffing

Blocking, blinding, grinding the divinely motoring wheel

To a nearly halt.

 

Hey!  this is my bus-stop!

- my stop-off, turnover, get-on junction

my option spot

and, hey! this is a daring, mobile mechanic

meddling with my magical machine

cranking the leggy shafts

fiddling with the nuclear fuel

twiddling the knobs and guages!

 

Ah, but I fogot!

That marauding mechanic is really me!

perched in my two-way, cosmic shuttle box

sheering along the trajectories of Certain Order

Time/Space daft, looping the loop

each modulated step and stage

of my shaping/mating ritual

set in the royal crown of nothingness

with the Geomancer’s arcane tool

imprinting the soft flesh of unborn tomorrows.

 

So my orbit flies

- un-driven, un-programmed, multi-directional

mesmerized by it’s own exact curves and relative motions

yet strung harmonically, deliciously

and with magically conscious intent

- God’s own beloved, spoilt children.

 

 

2002