—Anonymous Weaver
WINDING ROAD
—D.R. Wagner, Locke, CA
The Winter came. For awhile
It seemed difficult to realize
That every cell in my body
Was a complete universe.
Then the snow began.
I could barely stand.
My blood blew through
My body with no regard
For vessels or peristaltic tides.
I became a blizzard, a supernova.
I could inhabit endless planets,
Knowing them as I know your name.
All languages were at my service.
Dreaming and not dreaming were
The same waters to me. I was stars.
I was firelight. I was the sparkle
In all eyes. All my moving was music.
Even now I am all rivers and all
Winding roads. All that travels
Travels through me. I am the weave.
I am the weaver. I am the whole cloth.
_____________________
—Medusa, with thanks to D.R. Wagner for weaving us today's fine poetry!
—D.R. Wagner, Locke, CA
The Winter came. For awhile
It seemed difficult to realize
That every cell in my body
Was a complete universe.
Then the snow began.
I could barely stand.
My blood blew through
My body with no regard
For vessels or peristaltic tides.
I became a blizzard, a supernova.
I could inhabit endless planets,
Knowing them as I know your name.
All languages were at my service.
Dreaming and not dreaming were
The same waters to me. I was stars.
I was firelight. I was the sparkle
In all eyes. All my moving was music.
Even now I am all rivers and all
Winding roads. All that travels
Travels through me. I am the weave.
I am the weaver. I am the whole cloth.
_____________________
—Medusa, with thanks to D.R. Wagner for weaving us today's fine poetry!
