11.06.2020

sometimes a weightless hand guides me

In the back’s low hollow sometimes 
a weightless hand guides me, gentle pressure 
so I tack soft as a sailboat. (Go there) 

Soften the space between your eyes (smudge 
of eucalyptus), the third eye 
opens. There’s the wide vermilion sky 

that cradled us before birth, 
and the sun pours its golden sap 
to preserve me like His precious insect. 

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