THE GODDESS OF RAIN

I'm talking to the rain goddess,

telling her everything

that burps and whistles

is not really going to death

but to a deeper life

and we're floating

she tells me to enjoy

these dreams in their sweet decay

to embrace what fades

for its own existence

she strokes me

with the tenderness of smoke

rolling her thick hips

across my shallow grave

where vines pull me out

and shoots of bamboo

rescue my vertebrae

for her whips to cross over

we're dancing on cubes

of fluorescent air

I ask who's leading and she laughs

I take off my breastplate of script

and she laughs

I take off my radiant colors

I remove my cabinet arms

and cupboard legs

and she laughs like ivy

tendrils spreading and snaking in rhythm

she is oiling all the engines

in all my grey garages

til I come spilling out like silk

to worship her with shields

and whole civilizations

I take off my lasso

of computerized paperwork

and she laughs like a storm

I take off my leash of dreams

and she gives me a new sleep

I take off my sinews of money

she boils the ringleader

I eat of the ringleader

and when finally she lies down with me

something of her has gone

to the waves and the violent flowers

where we are no longer crashing

so I hoist her to shoreline

fresh in my arms to awaken

and I weep

like the lines on a fucking rock.