Goddess Gone Fishing for a Map of the Universe (ebooks)

Fishing for a dream—
a bumper sticker stuck on the fender
of a carbonless car reads: Isis Isis Ra Ra Ra

the Earth chants, the trees talk
and the sea sings

every poet brings new
meaning to duende,

the statue of the Vierge Noire was not created
by human hands, she’s found in trees, groves
lakes, streams and natural springs—
if you try to take the Goddess away
or remove her, the place will no longer exist
the tail of a comet

and fire, the fire within
expression of fire-lines
leading to the cave
over a lifetime and again
go fish!

the feminine divine teaches
all humankind how to wish
for the first time, explains
what it means to come true

a small dog named Violet
with an ultra big heart
who loves beyond reason

with abalone eyes
sees into the blues
reds and greens and white and black and brown
and yellow of gold—and colours
unseen—keyhole to meditation
and worship—where supernatural powers
of the statue are kept—indestructible
she always returns to the temple

the gypsy lament to the moon
and her retrograde vision
and the swing sister sweet
resonant chariot, fanciful feet
in whimsical power boots
magic lingering and quirky
and kooky space suits
finding restful places to tie a fly
mother and witch and virgin and whore
all opening doors and holding them open
long enough for everyone to come in
to drum for the womb, past a dualities tomb
dissolving like sugar and spell-binding the room
into one, at one with nature

look under a stone

Goddess is
a basket of sweet wild berries
fresh picked among spiders
left at the door with a bell
ringing once

and languages, all
ways of seeing and telling
with the intention to bless
and therefore be blessed,

midwife of all Marys
transformation past the hunger of time
with eglantine and ivy
omnipresent, into invisible texts
evaporated by knowing

Goddess
of dreams, or astronomy, or comedy
or idyllic poetry, Goddess of sacred
or choral music and dance or romance, epic poetry
or history—one Goddess by all names
for we are all one, poetry and flute and lyre
one body—all rare—Vitruvian Woman
flower petal to the metal up the fault line
of no regrets, ancient trees, dancing naked in the rain
as a blue bird, shakes tail feathers free
as goldfish memory evokes of all those
who came before and sang
till the feathers at our feet
fly

Goddess is Goddess
and that is that,
and that is why
the magic number is one
and none, aleatoric

a Goddess
creates great beauty, as minds
open books, and hearts
let the tongue be free in sanctuary
Goddess is praise
of the Goddess
and the map is never finished