"Most happenings exist where a word has never intruded." (Ranier Marie Rilke)
Didn't we all just dream this?
isn't it how we came here?
I awoke, drawn beyond midnight
by the Self-Luminous.
Walked naked into mist that clothed me
with the pelt of every deer.
The ground was covered with new nipples
quivering virescent out of loam.
Down from stars floated mouths
winged with lips making thirsty sounds.
I saw through everything into the milk
that yearns up cedar roots toward sky.
Saw You, gleaming with inward cream, inebriated.
We awoke into each other's dream, again and again,
more real with each relinquishing
of breath. That astonishment
Was this: nowhere
was there a Word, a Name for anything!