Love, this taper grows
a flame itself from my grasp.
My own hands are scented
with the wax those other hands poured
in India & in China-----
The palms dreaming, baring
ladles of being…
Colours almost purr in each solidified
perfume wafting beyond the wick
I am the quickening of in this circle
drawn by time.
Space, what a spiral, the energies
connecting between my fire & theirs…
Eyes follow the gold to the blue & I
should wear robes of turquoise, yield
with aromas, passage to passage, to be
nude where they disperse…
Flow in, last romantic, with lily petals,
pistils strewn about this bowl of glass.
Here, cup the universe, its everywhere hands,
all the candles of our world.
A resident of NY, Stephen Mead is a published artist, writer, maker of short-collage films and sound-collage downloads. His latest P.O.D. amazon release is an art-text hybrid, "According to the Order of Nature (We too are Cosmos Made)", a work that takes to task the words that have been used against LGBT folks from time immemorial. In 2014 he began a webpage to gather links of his poetry being published in such zines as Great Works, Unlikely Stories, Quill & Parchment, etc., in one place: Poetry on the Line.