Nursery Rhyme

The mystic is not a poem
The mystic is not old rhythm
The words are stuck below n’
Bring the trap and ego with them

The field is a-glowing
And the moon is extra bright
We are melting all our knowing
And demanding extra sight

The structure’s left of field
Our heads are in the air
The restlessness not healed
But restored the blown-out stare

Restored in mountain valley flame
Lights death outside of time
Come to be kind to striving shame
The show of lives in mime

Feel the forest tell in daytime
Feel the forest stand in night
Feel the forest rise in pale shine
Surprising at first light

The shapes do form significance
Are beings less and more
The shapes take on omniscience
Yet each laments its flaws

No time for people’s sadness
But for a pure pain
The winds at last blow madness
So trip out! each soul would fain

Be trawled through horrors such as these
So to rise to heights of feeling
Now be brought upon one’s knees
To watch a night-lit room revealing

Every hazy dance, in honey flow
The shapes swim forth behind
Fom smoke and smurling, magic slow
Half evil- rise to blind engagement- sight- all full, half kind
Is heads in horizontal air
And feet yet surer on the ground
Is shakes in lips, is shakes in hair
Is trembles always, we are sound
We are found!

Is illness, song and crying
Is first alive and dying
Is immediate and shaking, shaking
moving into breaking into honey flow and spirals

Now spread open is the view
And colours!! myriad and yellow
And we know it but it’s new
And life’s here! we say ‘Hello’