out in the kingdom
where the white mulberry grows,
ask the right questions,
ask for the way, ask what is life.
ask anything,
ask until nothing’s left to ask
for surely this tree of life knows.
in the wind dancing catapulting pollen,
exploding
at half the speed of sound,
its leaves feed luxury
bewitching silkworms with jasmone.
spinning its silk
cocooned tasties fall to the ground.
the horse headed lady
and her love drop from the mulberry,
in the shadows among the lilacs
they are nebula beginning to star.
far off in the yard
lovers, white naked with horned backs
are stuck forever instar,
returning.
ribbons, silken ribbons weave the universe
around two hundred and six bones,
thirty three vertebrae.
lovers spin as their atoms collide,
electric combustion
throwing off elements,
bending the spine.
shadows merge into a shadow galaxy,
shadows of sound call echo.
every frequency remains somewhere,
humming bees making honey,
weaving in the falling rain of
silkworms feeding.
wrapped in the horse headed ladies sheets,
spun from her head circling
in figure eights,
the universe is dressed,
accented in infinity and honey.
bees rise from the blossoms
covered in white mulberry pollen.
thirty trillion cells rise
dressed in moth spun silks,
stepping from the shadows
into the sun
to become fire.
