In Xanadu,
the teeming heart birth center of all,
you can use the sun solely as sanitizer,
in Oz,
located in the left and right hemispheres of heaven and mind,
where you live,
you don’t need to quarantine eternity..
where you are
now
you can
stop and feel that sweet spot sitting pretty,
still ,
like a blazing star fire emoji..
you can rest your weary head on the sky’s chest,
swim out far and wide into the
deep space waters,
rolling peace,
wave
after wave..

chill like freckles on icebergs,

vanish into heartbeats,

let your head blow away
like a dandelion big bang..
hey there Starsailor,
put on your wig of illustrious white light,
let’s mingle in shivas freshly minted silence,
undress our DNA in cool pitch black..
you’re a chapter ripped from hawk skin,
still wet from mountain clouds,
and filled with molten surprise..

switch heads with the sun … mmmm…fun…
run with a thousand clown galaxies,
blast like owls eyes at night,
giggle like water…

have some

morning tea with Ishvara

an ant, and a tree .. play

hopscotch with the chancellors of reality.

clouded afternoon Samsara,

becomes an entangled angle,

realized, delicate,

air drowsy with dense slumbers,

illusion escapes from the blue eye,

rushing along a marshy calm

of stones and the azure,

into a slow drip of evening

melting as light of the moon.