booksartyoume

'goddess not a dream' timothy r gates, 01/11/2007

01/04/2007
tired,
i say stupid things,
sometimes aware, often not
rested,
i go into autopilot,
'i know no-thing'
speak into the air,
my voice comes back,
i find that the one I hear is myself
(ah, the sound of my own voice!)
awakened, I hear another's

01/09/2007
"in The Garden
in the cool breeze
we walked free;
no nakedness revealed,
covered in truth,
divine, and of our species;
now with remorse and guilt.
bullshit
restoration of The Garden
simply walks again
in the cool of the morning's breeze
no need to equivocate
the breeze likes to hug too

01/10/2007
i imagine Solomon writing of his stroll in the Garden,
tasting and savoring as long as possible such delicious fruits,
the smell of green apples,
the taste of an extra ripe, beginning to turn
grape
(the best can ferment in their own skin)
the moisture that he longed for still dripping
praying that his goddess is not a dream;
he spoke of her frame.
she spoke of his eyes.
then his frame.
here, the Serpent had no sway
where lust is conceived love -
where it is longed for temptation -
where it is eaten, drunk well -
a hiss is dismissed.
this bed is admitted desire,
give into her,
him,
the fruits in this Garden
dismiss
even weeds.

01/11/2007
whose voice is that that I hear?
this time it's not my own crafted noise
sip this, I whisper to myself