
Whirling StillnessI studied all the world's scriptures
and made a list of banned foods.
I put them in a gourmet stew
and served it by candlelight.
That night, my friends and I
broke all the taboos we could find!
Surely, the world is a dream,
but you don’t have to sleep.
The Lord of Parties invites you:
There's no cover charge at his dance!
When the party’s almost over,
he’ll turn your water into hard stuff.
And when you walk home at sunrise
in whirling stillness like a rose,
you won't even be able to read the stop signs.
Jesus loves wine, not grape juice!

Mardi Gras
This mambo line we've been dancing in all night -
I've forgotten where it started, your place or mine?
And who are all these whirling hipsters,
pelvis to pelvis like gandharvas in the lowest heaven?
Preening, prancing, behaving like democrats,
Pointing their tail feathers up at the sun?
Oh I admit, I’m one of them,
Bragging about my torrid love affair with God,
Drinking too much and shouting,
"We weren’t invited to this! We just showed up!"
O Jesus, you were a homeless poet once,
Eating leftovers from the lawn parties of the upright.
You know what it means to scavenge among the wasted seeds,
Looking for the sprouted ones, the ones with laughter in them.
We're like jostling crows on a live electric wire,
inebriated with the voltage: everyone looking for juice!
If one of us touches the ground, we're all dead.
But that won't happen: we're never coming down!
We only move in one direction now, upward
like black flames, so dizzy with midnight dancing
I can't tell which of us I am.
I've whirled from your hands and fallen
back into your kiss so many times,
I don't know if I'm Lover or Beloved...
I think I might be sober now
in the stillness before dawn.
I can almost remember your name.
If I do, I won’t tell the others.
I just want to know, last night,
Was I the wine or the cup?

Don't Send Jesus Down
Don't send Jesus down to the wine cellar,
he's not your butler!
Go down yourself, drink silence,
savor the dark.
When all the guests have departed
except that special someone,
take out your best bottle, one drop of which
is sweeter than the night you were conceived.
Now there was a night: but it won’t be the last!
Each grape from this vineyard is a night like that,
bursting with starry blackness.
The wine seems clear and tasteless,
but a single sip is stronger than death.
Top off your special someone's cup
with the sound of spilling diamonds
again and again until you're both
one dance, one void-stained kiss!
At sunrise, maybe,
you'll learn your lover's name....

Wine
In bottles of brown or green or clear glass,
each taste contains a hierarchy of flavors,
an oaky noseful of names, aromas, chocolate,
grassy, flinty, briar, caramel, cedar and toast,
smoky, buttery, blackberry, dust and rose.
But after seven glasses, all names are one,
and after the eighth, you say nothing,
know nothing, realize the utterly tasteless!
Now the bouncer drags you to the door
and throws you out of the tavern.
You'll wake up in the middle of the street,
wondering whether to shout to the thirsty,
"Stop! Here's the door! Come drink!"
or simply wander on, keeping it all to yourself
until you find the vintner, the cluster, the root.
Your Wedding Night

If you want a perfect marriage
don't ask who you'll marry
or how much is he worth.
Just rest in that vastness
of not asking.
You marriage has been arranged.
Crush the grapes of me and mine
into the wine of Thou.
Only those who aren't betrothed
say I.
The bride who drinks so much of this wine
she loses her name in another name
says Thou.
It is by a certain light in her eyes that we know
she has met the Bridegroom.
Don't Underestimate
Once you were silence.
Then silence put on flesh
in order to dance.
To touch God, look deep into your body.
Underestimating your glory
is the first sin.
Now drink up the rest of this day.
Bask in yourself, squander the kingdom!
A fountain of something like starlight
will rise up your spine,
spilling over, showering the world
with burning seeds of wonder,
gold as the stuff in Mary's womb.

God Lives Here Now
In heaven there’s a sign:
“This Space for Rent."
God lives here now.
He loves to walk barefoot on this dusty road
brushing the cheek of the child
who trots along beside him.
He reaches down to touch the contagious hand.
He pauses to fill the mad woman's eyes
with his eyes.
Their faces are mirrors leaning together,
hollow corridors of wonder.
We're all like that, just lead and emptiness
polished by his glance.
He came here for this gazing.
What sparkled in the stars shines
inside us now.
Think I’m kidding?
Just try one breath.

A Dinner Party
Anticipating a fine quarrel,
I invited all the Gods to my party
and served seven carafes of wine.
Jesus, Buddha, Yahweh and Krishna,
The Prophet at the head of the table,
drinking nothing at first, then a glass
of Cabernet, and then another!
Oh I admit I was looking for an argument,
but the evening was a sentimental bore.
They spent the whole time hugging and weeping,
comparing genealogies,
having discovered through the art
of ordinary conversation
that just like you and me,
they were all descended
from a single Ape.

Dancing Bride
"Of course I danced with him!"said the maiden to her father, concerning the Wanderer she met in the Tavern that night.
"We danced until Dawn. Then I threw away my shoes and wandered home smiling in a world without secrets, my blouse undone, skirt loose about my hips.
" I will go on meeting him night after night like this, even if I lose my good name. For I will lose it in His!"
She clapped her hands and in that instant became the Morning Star.
For the soul who encounters Love in the tavern of the Heart can never quite return to the company of the sober.

Conch, Ram's Horn, Galaxy
This golden
ratio,
cornucopia,
smaller
than an atom,
spiral
of emptiness
bursting
with bouquet,
the promise
of wine unpressed,
of fruit
not yet risen
from its seed,
waiting
like a lover's mouth
to be filled with
sweetness:
your breath
could play here,
making from this
starry hollow,
music!
God Is So Loose
God is so loose and unfaithful!
Tear open his breast and look for yourself.
Ten thousand lovers live in that heart.
We’re all there, you and I, your grandmother.
We’re geishas wrapped in scarlet bows,
dancing to that constant Throb.
“He loves everyone,” they told us,
but that was in Sunday school.
Now we're grownups asking questions, like:
"If God's so loose, what hope is there for me?"
To which the Beloved replies,
“Be hopeless, soak your bread in tears,
untie your knotted hair.”
"What kind of advice is that?" we cry.
God says, “I’m just so hungry for love.”
We keep up the whining all day:
"Fine, fine! But what about me?"
He lets us cry ourselves to sleep like that,
then offers milk from some
enormous bosom, whispering,
"I created you to dissolve."