On the Beach

[Guest guest]

from here to eternity

Burt and Deborah

embrace in the tide –

 

from the point of view of the Mystery

there is no Mystery, only

what is.

 

We always speak in metaphors;

each creature possesses

magic language

that can make things

seem to be.

 

Moment to moment to moment

the face you are looking at

no longer exists,

leading one to suspect

it never did, crumbling

all hope

it ever will.

 

When love makes love with

Itself on the beach the tides

chant mantras:

 

“God is great, Sabu!

God is happy, God is

playing with us!”

 

When we lop that head off,

then we’ll be done with it.

 

Then we can start whole.

 

The mind is not

wired to comprehend

Infinity.

 

It is what

passes through eternity

like a gypsy caravan,

and you,

that gypsy girl –

laughing and beckoning –

Ah, am I sliding my hand over

your ripeness now, my cardinal’s robes

forgotten in this unknown rush of passion?

Am I on a battlefield impaled by a beloved

stranger’s bayonet, or in the shower,

mouth on your neck, pressing

urgently?

 

“None of these, Sabu,

none at all!”

 

Our tombstone epitaph –

 

ISN’T IT SO?

 

is carved already

on that beach, and

Gregory Peck holds

Ava Gardner closer still, and

the credits will roll on until

every grain of sand is named,

though they all spell Sabu, Sabu.

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