Enter In/vocation

You there,
peering out behind the corner
You too there,
slithering, like lightning through the grass,
or standing at the doorway as the dawn breaks
Enter

Your revelation is my intent
You are my co-conspirators.

I have stories to tell, and you
bear a cargo of treasures
You bring the earth for my clay pots
the plant from which I’ll weave a basket
or a home,
To create the world anew

Don’t leave me for you are the ones
who know the hidden meanings
The only ones who tell the truth
You soar above the stacked stones
and memories of villages
glide along the river of a fertile awareness

I invite you, implore you
Breathe life into my meanings
Manifest into the written word
Bring the view of the eagle eye, carried by the breeze
or the mordant slug impressed with nature

I’ve watched you shimmering in golden wheat
moving full of grace
in the small luxuries of earth and elements

You reveal the messages encoded in breath,
In the warmth of skin,
In the dorje of a furtive glance
You are the world of my living poem
Enter.

March, 1997

Older version
You there,
peering out behind the corner
You too there,
slithering through the grass, reflecting light
or standing in the doorway as the dawn breaks
Enter

Your revelation is my intent
You are my co-conspirators.

I have stories to tell, and you
bear a cargo of treasures
You bring the earth for my clay pots
the plant from which I’ll weave a basket
or a home,
To create the world anew

Don’t leave me for you are the ones
who know the hidden meanings
The only ones who tell the truth
You soar above the stacked stones
and memories of villages
glide along the river of a fertile awareness

I invite you, implore you
Breathe life into my meanings
Manifest into the written word
Bring the view of the eagle eye, carried by the breeze
or the mordant slug impressed with nature

I’ve watched you shimmering in golden fields
lighting the fireflies of the garden at dusk
Moving full of grace
in the small luxuries of earth and elements

You reveal the messages encoded in breath,
In the warmth of skin,
In the dorje of a furtive glance
You are the world of my living poem
Enter.

March, 1997
I’ve watched you moving full of grace
in the shimmering of golden fields
in the fireflies of a warm summer evening
in the small luxuries of earth and elements