listings are what

listings are what
we think
when we are thinking;
beings are what we
be
when we are being.

the peach I hold in my heart

the peach I hold in my heart
I hold in my heart
for my teacher
who placed it there
with gentle fingered touch
so much
its moist flesh
will hold my heart open
and searching

but when the day plays out
and I doubt there’s enough love
in this place, enough space
in this place, enough enough—
my heart shrinks up
I can feel the juice dribbling
and the soft flesh shmushed
hushed by the false sense of safety
in turning in
until
through dint of time and across it
she begins to place it there again
my friend
whole

receiving breath

receiving breath
all day long
never taking
just receiving
--like welfare for the dead

a top knot

a top knot
tends to send the light
up your spine and out your eyes
to mine.
a top knot
says “here is a yogi”
for all to see
and wonder at
--why a man, young and white
would take flight
from the chamber
that awaits him
to a top knot
that’s just not
what we expect,
but maybe
want more
than a hole in the head,
instead—a whole head.

when your touch

when your touch
echoes on my spine
and your hands send
the love of ultimateness
along the curves that creak,
the breath flows free
and joy dances
in your eyes,
and in mine.