M. LUNA ROSSEL, ARTIST
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Warning

I threw caution to the wind...

A gale brought it back

and it slapped me

in the face

with the force

of a quiet truth



One of those days


On the days

where my soul is ablaze

and I roll unapologetically

over the altar of Life

sensing the orgiastic embrace of roots

beneath the sprouting green earth

the sun kissing each of my pores

the waters of fleeting streams

running in unison with my blood

birds finishing my thoughts

with their song...

On the days

where I fully know the space

diminutive and infinite

that I take

in this ever unfolding eternity

and breath moves my body

of its own accord

to the rhythm of tacit music

played by a mighty oak tree...

On these days

I sit on the ground

and let Love seep through me

like sweet rain on thirsty soil...



You


You.

Yes, You.

Powerful amalgam of breath and bone

fleeting marriage of flesh and clay

uncharted map of forgotten dreams

fragile threshold for air and voice

tapestry of wounds and kisses

seeker of the liminal space

between cream and cheese...

You.

Come.

Hold my hand.

There's no method to my madness.

We'll dance together over this tightrope

to the song of thunder

to the song of frogs

to the song of waves

crashing on the shore of silence

to the song of clouds

passing through your eyes

to the song of flowers

disrobed by the wind...

Come.

I've been sitting on the seed of your memories

I've been walking on the footprints of your hopes

I've been chasing your prayers on a twilit horizon...

You. Yes, you.

Leave your wings behind the door

leap into the last minute of this day

hair covered in newborn stars

a quasar quivering in your mouth

the fragrance of other worlds

still lingering on your skin...

You.

I hear a reverberation

of string instruments

in your belly

I hear a flock of butterflies

within your chest

I hear the echo

of lapping waters

behind your forehead...

You...


Threshold

At the doorstep

of a vast love...

One that encompasses

sweet grief and bitter joy

One that encompasses

falling and flying

mourning and celebration

bleeding and blooming

dancing and burning

gleaming and dissolving

ravaging and setting free...

A love of petals and wounds

of scars and wings

of scabs and feathers

of lips and bruises...

I feel at peace dancing to this song

my hands empty

my heart full

as I know

I am a free range soul

as I know

the hunger of my spirit

the thirst of my body

and I dispense and receive

from a luminous fountain

my hand empty

my hand full

in grief and celebration

in joy and mourning

in beauty and darkness

in the embrace and in the vastness

in the holding and in the freedom

in the fire and in dissolving

in the words and in the silence...

The smell of gunpowder

behind my ears

the smell of roses

in the palms of my hands

the smell of stars

on my forehead...

The dust of the Underworld

still fresh on my bare feet

the light of the Heavens

still flickering in my wings

the echo of impossible bells

still reverberating in my belly

my body still sprinkled in ashes...

Sprouting dreams beating

to the sound of newborn galaxies

covered in morning dew

and last night's moonbeams...

All in the flavor of a kiss

all in the flavor of an unfinished salad

all in the flavor of a sunrise

all in the flavor of of the fire crackling...

And while the scabs on my knees are still fresh

and my shadow on the dappled ground

is still dancing to the song of pain

...I will allow myself to be humbled by joy.

I will part ways with your hands

and spell your name on the mud.

That too, is an offering

on the altar of Love

just as hunger is an offering

to the altar of Nourishment

I am an offering

to the altar of Devotion...

I will dance holding with a hand that lets go

I will sing with a voice steeped in silence

as I bloom within the compost of my dreams

as I shine from the root of my darkness

and taste the warm sweetness

within the bitter cold

the lullaby of peace glowing in my veins

as I allow myself to flow

through meandering

stagnation

and rapids

as a leaf on the surface of a little creek...

Hoping to sleep

hoping to dream

hoping to wake up

and go and kiss once again

the mossy bark of my best friend

under the setting sun

under the rising moon...



Thunder

I've been a moth

diving in sweet devotion

into the flames

I've been a dancer

leaping to my own drum

over broken feet

I've been a flower

cloaked in quivering petals

suddenly disrobed by the wind

I've been a fern

unfurling my spiral

in a precocious Spring

I've been a seeker

crossing the furious ocean

on a burning ship

I've been a tree

sharing my secret light fountain

with a human being

I've been a bird, too

...and I taught the heavens

how to sing in thunder.



Yellow

While the trains stopped running

and the streets are empty

and the shops are closed

...the cuckoo clocks of thought

still dance in momentum

to the frantic rhythm

of proficient fear.

Nevertheless,

once again

Spring is here...

Nevertheless,

the first oriole

lands on the oak tree

and the orange nasturtiums

tremble in the breeze.

Nevertheless,

the stars will titillate later

embroidering the darkest night...

Is the mindfulness bell

of the body

tolling with hunger,

...once again?

Is the gratitude prayer of soup

simmering on the stove?

As these skies seem to you

too blue to be true,

Summer will come, too...

 

While the planes fly

once again,

so will the ladybugs

and the pigeons

and all neglected dreams...

While the trains run

once again,

so will the brooks

and the rivers

and the little feet of children...

But you,

you won't run on empty

anymore.

You've learnt to swirl

to the tune of silence,

you've learnt to dance

to your inner drum.

And me...

After walking back and forth

on this tightrope

between the shores

of Grief and Gratitude,

I will stand still,

in praise of Beauty

...once again.

I'll be a quiet, naked signpost

in the middle of a ripe field,

racketing crows flying about,

biting on an ear of corn

milky juice

running down my chin...

And you'll set the plow aside

once again,

as you'll see is time for harvest

and today's Grace is yellow

and Divine timing

is to be chewed

and all of the wisdom

of the sacred books

is to be read

on the textured alphabet

engraved by grass

on your skin...



I've been

I've been cradling words in my throat

I've been pushing feathers through my pores

I've been thinking clouds across my blueness

I've been stomping on fresh green with my hooves

I've been holding space within my orbit

I've been suffusing the universe with my silence

I've been penetrating wombs with my seed

I've been exploding into seedlings

I've been crying as crystalline rain

I've been singing as thunder

I've been fluttering into the flames

I've been colliding with the sun

I've been crackling through burning wood

I've been seeping through the soil

I've been growing diamonds in my belly

I've been sheltering opals under my skin

I've been saving love as a jewel in my heart

I've been hiding a pocket for feathers in my chest

I've been making a trail of kisses

I've been running against the horizon

I've been dancing to crashing waves

I've been rolling against the sand

I've been meandering around rocks

I've been condensed into cotton clouds

...I've been a slimy, hollering human

coming out of a womb.



Sometimes

Sometimes I remember
for a fleeting half moment
that I've been playing
all parts on this play
while expanding relentlessly
on the void of space/time...
The unfathomable fragility
of that almost memory
fades quickly into nothingness
and I am left with the longing
for that groundless embrace
from within
from without
from all directions
at once...


I have

I've bloomed in pink

on a million cherry trees

I've howled to the moon

the 99 names of Allah

I've beat in unison

with thousands of hearts

and fluttered about

in multicolored wings

I've meandered around rocks

from the mountains to the oceans

I've gleamed as voracious flames

fed by the breath of countless beings

...and I was the air that fed that fire

licking the wood of a billion trees

and I was the sap flowing through their wood

and I was the water sipped by their roots

...and the rain that fed the streams

and the sunbeams blessing the leaves

and the teeth crashing the ripe fruit

and the juice running down my chin...


Fire Time

Looking
for the random oracle
of a vanity license plate
on the freeway,
I cross the bridge.
An eerie orange ball
in the sky
with a faded twin
floating on the bay waters,
the sun
is veiled by thick smoke
that is mostly the ghosts
of my beloved trees,
and who knows
how many other creatures...
Tears flow
down my masked cheeks
as I sit on a train
trying to remember
that all is meant to be
in divine order
no matter the level
of unfathomable chaos,
and that, for the keen eye
there's always beauty
around the most unforeseen
of all corners...
The train
leaves the city
slow, as a tired animal,
through mazes of trash
and piles of rubble
many human beings
are calling “home”
thanks to the profound
patriarchal oblivion
that signals the decadence
of this empire.
Right next to the train tracks,
close to a discarded, storytelling sofa
with an impressive upholstery
of stabbed cushions
and blood print,
a man
without clothes
without name
without mask
- but perpetually socially distanced -
leans on a wall
with a vacant gaze,
and shakes his penis
as a sad farewell...
A few miles south
I'm still a silent witness
on an empty wagon,
and there they are
facing East,
as fervent morning prayers,
the golden mystery
of 5 giant sunflowers,
eagerly peeking over
the chainlink fence
of an abandoned lot.
They sing the prelude choir
that announces
the liminal territory
where land meets water...
There,
a great white heron
performs intently
his suspended dance of stillness
waiting for a fish,
undeterred
by the hazy apocalypse
of the skies above,
on a one legged balancing act
with equal measures
of Grace and hunger...
Miles and miles and miles
of scorched and smoky landscape
later
on this unwitting cadaster
of devastation,
I breathe with passing pelicans
as the sun sets over the ocean
where the waves conduct
business as usual
in their rhythmic kissing
of the shore...


Smoky Haiku

Ashes in the air.

My blood and flesh, these burnt trees.

Nowhere to run now...



Barefoot

Faith is not for me...
Shall I leave it to atheists
and other obedient
devotees of dogma?
I am a creature of feeling
of slow walking
- barefoot, in the dark -
of uneducated sensing
of empirical knowing
of wildness at the heart
that beats on my sleeve...
I read the earthy book of strata
the scripture of running waters
the verses of the high mountains
My fingers softly grazing
the texture of fresh stitches
embroidering a shifting path...
Do not ask me for answers
as all I carry in my holey pockets
are my favorite questions
and a faded memory
What sits on my altar
is willing to be annihilated
on an impromptu funerary pyre
at any given moment
...while any pebble under my feet
might be a portal to divine grace.
I devour the rising moon
and drink silence avidly
as I mingle humbly
with the likes of weeds
and fallen feathers,
as I bow to the birds
and smile to the squirrels...
Bastard deities
and one winged angels
sit at my dinner table
for candlelit eye gazing
and I have unwitting
pillow talks
with adamant muses
in the dead of the night...
See, my eternity is made
of hummingbird breaths
while my transient voice
carry the sound of the ages
Red poppies run untethered
behind my forehead
when rocks whisper my name
and trees speak a secret tongue
only my bones understand...
Come.
You can share my bowl of soup
and build within your mouth
a fleeting shrine to gratitude
...but do not ask for recipes,
I don't have any.
Between entree and dessert
I may patch your shattered heart
with invisible rose petals
...and call it an accident.
Let us be silent now.
Listen with every pore.
Even if you're kneeling
on a puddle of your own tears
you'll see the flickering
reflection of the sky
where every star
ever born
is writing a poem
among the clouds
...just for you.


Know

When the Earth stops shaking

and the dust is settled

and the fires extinguished

and the rivers receding

When the bodies heal

and the minds are clear

and the hearts that broke

let go of their fears

and your breath slows down

and your hands reach out

and your tears dry up...

When the Truth shows fluid

and Tenderness invincible

When the chase is over

and the fleeing ceases

and the search proves futile

and the footfalls hush

When the heirloomed terrors

vanish into smoke

and the loyal hatred

lies under the ashes

and the sprouts of kindness

quiver as wild flowers

in a fragile dawn

...then, you'll remember.

Then you'll know.

Then you'll feel it

in all corners of your being.

The verses of every holy book

ever written

glowing in your belly

beating in your chest

melting in your mouth

flowing down your cheeks.

Humbled by dirt and twilight

humbled by blood and beauty

you'll fall on your knees

...and Know.

Mirror

A passing mirror
for the soul
cradling hands holding
an aching heart
the missing lullaby
the word untold
a simple refuge
under the raging storm


Hoarding Love

Hoarding love?

Saving tenderness?

For a deserving recipient,

for a better occasion,

in a hypothetical future

in another fitter place?

Even when it's been shown

over and over again

that the love you withhold

will be carried as pain

...and there's no interest

on a savings account

for kindness,

and the stock market

for hope

may collapse, at any moment?...

Keeping compassion

under the mattress?

Hiding sweetness

inside the toilet tank?

For an emergency?

For a rainy day?

Stashing time in a piggy bank?

Attempting to freeze the hours

within your inner clock?

Postponing presence

until a more deserving event

brings you to your knees

in salty awareness?

Until a more deserving being

breaks you open in grief?

Until a more deserving wound

gets your attention,

while your heart bleeds quietly

all along?

Stockpiling breaths?

Accumulating joy?

Squirreling safety away

on account of dangling carrots?

Here.

Have all of me.

Since I don't have a fancy pantry

or anything you can really

pillage or pawn in my core...

I also have no walls for you

no boundaries for your heartbeat

no fences for your demons

no borders for your dreams...

I've fled this burning tower

climbing down my own braid.

I've left my shield and armor

hanging behind the door.

Come.

Have all of me.

No need to hoard your Love...

I won't charge interest on my words

I won't keep beauty away as useless

I won't save my eyes from seeing you

I won't wait for a better time to hear you

I won't postpone you for a more deserving One.

Have all of me.

I'll be fire in your belly

I'll be soil under your feet

I'll be water in your veins

I'll be air for breath and voice...

 

Holy Communion

Diligently kiss the floors of your kitchen, now.
Chant a prayer of gratitude over a greasy pan
while the kettle joins in sheer devotion
Turn each meal, into a precious sacrament
atoning any ancestral tumbles
each cup of tea, a healing ablution
erasing any malady
Make the flames of your stove
the hearth of the sacrificial altar
- no virgins required -
and know that primordial fire
ignites each of your cells
Gather your hunger to savor Divinity
the bitter of past sorrows
the sour of buried loyalties
the spicy embers of a dream
the salty sweat of angels
the sweetest tears of joy...
Allow all the Elements to converge
for the pleasure of your tongue
and the nourishment of your body
Kneel at the sacred altar of your table
the very flesh and blood of all Prophets
lays on your plate and reddens your glass
Make your plate the holy land
make your mouth a blessed threshold
pray Rosaries made of rice and beans
bite the whole Universe on a potato
be baptized on a sip of water
as you abide in the liminal space
between cream and cheese...
Make your mouth the refuge of the Deity
make your belly the cradle of your Life force
make your body the sanctuary of Love
a moving vessel of tender Truth
Prostrate to your soup spelling a name for Allah
bow to the Goddess on each drop of cream
attain Nirvana on every single bite
realize your Buddha nature on a slice of bread
butter, the very essence of the Mother...
The water from your faucet
is holy rain on thirsty soil
Every morsel is mouth-fed
by the Phoenix itself
Anoint yourself with honey, now.
It was brought to you by bees
that made love to a thousand flowers
just on your behalf
Feed yourself as if you were feeding
the Infant God on your lap
your spoon a royal scepter
first teeth biting on a fruit
as if devouring the whole Cosmos
soup a Divine Mystery
creamy pearls the Milky Way
spilled across the heavens...


Skin Field

I called back my butterflies
and pinned them again
into a little wooden box
I keep under the bed.
Ineffable moments
were distilled into words,
as fleeting and marvelous
as their delicate flutter.
The sun was setting
the moon soon to rise
and I was ready to dream
another unrecalled dream.
I've been all the parts
on this play,
I won't collect
applause or praise.
Shadows are growing
on the twilit pavement
and ghosts are wandering
the empty streets,
warm wind scattering
their footprints,
as dead dry leaves,
into oblivion...
In the dead of night
while nocturnal flowers
bloom and release
their sickening perfume
I hear a faint echo
calling my name
from lips that once
knew mine too well...
The skin field
where I deployed my kisses
has faded into the dark.

Burn

Each morsel sacred

as if the first,
as if the last.
Each kiss ineffable
as if to wake
Sleeping Beauty
up...

I drown on every ocean
and rise on each horizon
and bloom as every flower
within the tender compost
of my beloved dreams...
I savor all the words
and get lost in translation
in my own mother's tongue
...And then I jump enraptured
back into the silent abyss.

I'll take root in the air
and then unfurl my wings
under the humid soil.
I'll take another leap
of faith without a net
to glide free but unfinned
over the darkest wave.
...And then I'll burn again
in the sheer ecstasy
of this magenta skies...


Ocean

I went to the ocean.

My heart ached
for the advice of water
and the rhythmic, faithful love
of sea kissing earth...
And the ocean welcomed me,
fearless and generous
as a blue, open armed deity
spreading multiple hands
on the shimmering shore
tiny river fingers reaching and flowing
back and forth
from the mystery of that salty womb...
The waves didn't ponder if it was their time
or the right sand to crash upon
and the seaweeds kept business as usual
wrapping rocks up in their marvelous cloaks
and the rocks persisted on their stoic meditation
while a couple harvested a bucketful of mussels
and a little dog fetched a ball
57 times.
And I wandered in awe
my sandy toes as eager
as the toddler's frolicking nearby
as every pebble wanted to be seen
and every shell wanted to be found
and every anemone wanted to be stroked
and even the dead seagull
with its crossed wings
carried the joy of its last flight...
And I knew
every footprint on the sand that day
was a prayer and an offering...
And even though the sun lingered until dusk
the day was coming to an end
and the twilight suffused watercolored skies
with magenta and violet and the promise of stars...
So, not wanting to leave I took the trail back
and greeted again the poppies that danced
loosing their orange, velvety petals
to the sweet song of invisible frogs.


Dark Night almost Haiku


Under the blooming shadow
of the loquat tree
I was found ...and lost again.