when i deeply listen

when i deeply listen
past my ears and eyes
past the roar of my own welling up
adn spilling over into story
i can sometimes glimpse
the start--the very tip of a
whole iceberg waiting to be
explored under the ice of
getting to know you melting
off cragy bits above the
surface allowing for the
rich gesture of a simple
hand holding the solar plexus
you speaking about gray
and orange and dancing,
eyes sparkling my mind
awake with somewhere
not like katmandu
and hear the shaft
of light caressing the
not buddha and
causing me to rub
my eyes for phantom
floating cat hair and
the laughter yoga's
flowing truths
spilling an inner
niagra falls falling
onto sacred ground
drinking at the well
of a shared chalice
that brings the
dance alive the
fullness of movement
funning up the
memory of a
big rock alive
witht he promise
of an istanbul to
see with you if you
dare to let me--to
offer me some way in
to turkish delight
when i listen
deeply to the place
your singing voice
transports me to
when i occupy it
fully,as i can with
you, those talking to you
as a mother--i can
hear them too--
and i can taste
the bloody sidewalk
and find its precious
warmth and wonder
why you, my booty
friend, my blind
mouse, can know,
at seven, what blood tastes
like and
then beyond
where i have been
where i only dare
hope to go i hear
you tell me
there are no
stepping stones
in the everglades
but i am listening
for them, for me
i am listening
to the deep forest
and the taste of earth
and the maggots
maggoting their
cleansing way
through the
meat left
on the
bone
of
this
moment
i am here
i am listening
and in the listening
i hear
i see
i seek
i find
i no longer hide.

you have given me
cause to speak
and i will use
my mouth
to open here
in witness to
this miracle
this miracle
this miracle
manifested
here
in the
hearing.