Lover, please -
crack open the top of my skull,
turn me upside down and shake me.
Stand me back up on my feet
and we'll look at the pile of things on the floor together.
Then we'll make a collage
and hang it on the wall,
where I can examine it at my leisure
and walk away whenever I wish.
crack open my sternum
and pull the breastbone apart.
Attach tethers to my heart,
and run long lines
of invisible thread
to all four corners of the world.
Run lines to the sun, the moon, and the stars,
run lines to the wind and the rain.
Affix me to the waves, to the trees, and to the mountains -
string me up as the world's puppet
and let all the truest things,
from now on,
decide how I am to dance.
I would be the world's marionette,
and I want only lovers
who would help me abandon myself.
Bind me to the earth's integrity,
I have none of my own.
Whatever true things move through me are only passing through,
I have yet to master the unwavering authenticity of starlight.
God save me from the cities,
from the dollars,
from the sense.
God save us from television,
from secondhand smoke
and secondhand hatred,
and secondhand lust.
God deliver us into spaces true,
ensconce us in cocoons of validity
and allow us to be reborn as butterflies,
wings awhirl with chaos and change
and flights unaffected
by the bullshit strewn about.
Lover, please if you can -
tether me to the true things of the world.
Empty me of myself,
and tie me to something real.
From now on,
I would move only
when those heartstrings are tugged,
every step a joyful surrender
to the subtle movements
streaming through the soul of the world.