Spirit
In the where we are world
intangible and tangled
a space of movies in holy time
without intermission
there is no waiting to rewrite the script.
It is happening as the popcorn crunches
in our mouths
as gunshots and diplomats talk
pulverizing the seeds of the living.
I am the seed they are trying to kill
created from an inner space of infinity
from musical strings a universe Einstein
could not imagine but longed for.
The Theory of Everything is in the oscillating ringing
the waves of unified motion
the tender inquisitiveness of time.
Vibration is all there is and time knows this.
Chords of sounds sunbathing on legs, arms,
lips, eyes, and inward in to ecstacy
grandiose and microscopic.
Wide open sounds that tenderize sunburns
and dance as the black holes pop open
when the journey is over
and we are sucked back into the beginning of time
where we see ourselves
in silence.
The seed they try to kill
waving undulating holding an infinite space
where fear is not found is the dream maker
of this dream time.
It will never be destroyed
Earth light beams into waters
that are in touch with feeling.
Waters that rush still
intoxicating inlets
with a happiness our human minds
would dance on the head of a pin to find.
Minted green foliage grows
light bound untangled
with all, lives in peace birthing choruses
with the bark of its neighbor.
Earth light is the director of sprouting seed souls
creator of the trunk and the roots.
It digs down
humming to earth.
In this where we are world change
sits in each quark of non linear time
rejoicing in the
freedom
of a creative mind.
Whirlpools of possibilities swim
as seed in little husks and kernels that
go dance or slide or ride
in the earth's decay, in it rise
in the soul's ability to multiple
and divide
with help from the chorus master who lives
sleeps and breaths
in each of us.
harmonizing all in creative reverie.
[Published in 3 A.M. Magazine]
Cupid in a Red Cape Quivers
You're on the bridge alone-
cars whizzing by-
about to put lipstick on your pearly lips
Cupid is your name
You are not man or woman
You are above it all
Your wings flutter
hoping for human happiness
The waters below the bridge are
blue,
indigo reminding you of heaven
You've learned in your years as an archer
heaven is in the heart
Eros in the mind
You hear George Burns whisper
get busy
You smear/ put inciting fire engine red
on your burning lips
put on a red dress from that infamous poem
check your bow and arrow
quiver
stop the Pat Benetar tape in your head
Love is a Battleground-
Not
Then shoot two mortals up with eros happiness
like it is heroin high and you are the dealer.
Bionote
Elizabeth P. Glixman is a poet, writer and artist. Her author
interviews, articles, book reviews and creative non-fiction pieces have
appeared in many publications including The Pedestal Magazine, Whole
Life Times, Journey Poetry Anthology and the anthology Chocolate for A
Woman's Soul II. Elizabeth's short story "Mother's Bony Behind" was
chosen one of the notable online stories of 2006 by storySouth's Million
Writers Award.
She is the author of the poetry chapbooks: A White Girl Lynching, 2008
and Cowboy Writes a Letter & Other Love Poems, 2010, both published
by Pudding House Publications, OH; The Wonder of It All, 2011, published
by Propaganda Press, CA; and I Am the Flame,2012, published by
Finishing Line Press, Ky.
Elizabeth's poems reflect the experience of her own life, her sense of
humor and the world of peoples' relationships with each other, society
and animals. Elizabeth's work shows the richness and joy of life with
all its injustices, absurdities and heartache.
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