Senryu- gardening

Certainty grows like
Thistles in the grand garden
Of ignorances

But would the Tree of Heaven

A rose, indeed,
By another name
May smell so sweet,
But would the Tree of Heaven,
Fondly known
In certain childhood quarters
As the Stink Tree?

Morning broke,
And she was still beside me,
Inside me.

In the unbearably sweet
Suffocating
Liberating
God-swelling moment

All bare, all received,
All unworthy of the trusting touch
All unable to live
Without it.

Love slips unbidden
Past the barricades
Like a curious tremor,
An unswaddled child

All bare and raw,
All out, out,
The last suckling breath
Lurking in some wild corner,
Seen at last
Relinquished at last.

Inexplicable,
Like rain,
Inextinguishable,
Like morning sun.
Impervious
To all the years.

Gorges, mountains
Openly beg for access,
The carefree, unhinged wheel
Sits unbeckoned, waiting,
Offering.

Can it be these glimpsed echos,
These half-chewed bits of life
Are what there is?

Now that I think of it,
It’s been a kind of dream paralysis,
A fear of waking, flying,
Falling.

There were times
It seemed possible to swallow it whole.

No, that wasn’t it.

Have I missed much?
How much would I have missed
Had I grasped at opportunity?

With luck,
We’re billiard balls.
Some rational vector.
Some reasonable
Interference.

Otherwise,
What part of me
Is indescribable?

We always thought we knew.
Is our vision better now,
Or just our opinion of it?

You say you embrace God
Your arms entwine emptiness
That distorting mirror
You call God

While you pray
Waiting only for your echo
Longing only for your immortal self
To come out of hiding

The stars are exploding
Forever