Dreamscape

           In sleep 
I am a whole, 
           a holy one.
See me a grass blade
           from any angle
set beside time—

I am a whole without parts,
           a holy one.
Sometimes a fruit in the ground,
           a free hand holding sky.
Sometimes a breast suckling wind,
           a mouth watering earth.

I roam in love to test this and that, 
           shredding, scrabbling words
to feed alphabets to trees;
           hear them speak.
See gods come to shelter in this wholeness.
           I marry the grass to my chair,
offer my blood to honey bees, and
           become the laughter of whispers
the size of leaf’s sighs.