God the Tosspot

Wild grape blossoms disperse upon a midnight breeze...
I see through this procession of vines
That the parade of all these flowers,

These florid vessels of time
Are empty, completely consumed
By a celebration of gusts
Trickling inside the belly of the wind,
Scattering confetti upon the wedding feast of
Time and Space.

Yes, the air is thoroughly intoxicated again
The stars gather 'round to sing
Drinking songs.
The sky above is an endless revel
And the galaxies fill the Lord's huge drinking bowl,
Pouring out their essence,
Proffering this wine to any soul
Who might keep up,
Because this drunken universe knows
But an insatiable thirst,
And it swiftly empties that bowl
And fills it again.

Drinking of Its Self
To the bottom of all phenomena,
Drinking of Its Self
To the bottom of
Thought and substance,
Drinking of Its Self
Into oblivion,
A riot of fruit
Amidst abandoned fields forgotten

But ever bearing a good vintage

From old vines

Grown wild.

This universe
Rolls beneath the tables of infinity,
The cloth of All dragged down
To cover Its nakedness,
Rolling on the floor
Of spacious eternity,
Reeling in the clay
Atop beds of minute grape blossoms

Scattered across this orchard.

Stars and galaxies
A mist of white inside a dream...


LVX
JAL