the eclipse has shown me
the limitations and creations of tradition, the innovation of sensual energy,
the thrust of hidden dreams, and the arousal of manifestation.
I can read the heavens–this is the most home I’ve ever felt.
To be with my Self bears harsh deaths that hook to the skin on their way out–
so that new skin may grow, beneath, cells that no one has seen before.
the radiant vibrations urged me not to rush.
I stood over candles pushed upright into soil and I inhaled
new wind and exhaled
pieces of rotting flesh I carried around just to have an excuse to remember.
When the moon passed by the sun like a portly church member would squeeze in from of someone already sitting down on a pew
I said plainly to my Self,
“I am who I am”
again to my Self, then to the trees braying in the wind then to the locusts whizzing in the distance.
I felt solid. I am solid-