all these lines,
criss-crossing “connecting,”
energizing,
crackling communication,
suggesting something huge baking…
(dunno maybe should I even look out the window
over the lines, past the garbled voice and the stupid
logical murdering line of reason after reason to believe
that this is all in my head, this feast, this vision,
this sense of something shining on my skin
and even from deep within?)
while a hum, vibe, drumbeat,
knee-knocking, soul-fattening orb-wonder
-conspiring on the horizon-
shines song, lavishing luxurious unity,
inviting,
begging paupers to grab the gold
and growl, devour the feast
of love, melt into the dirt of earth’s fleshiest fields
and grow this inevitable communion
(will I be consumed? will I lose my rightness, please?
will I shed my robes of “virtue?” will I thrive…?)
beyond illlusion’s solitary now.
J. Ruth Kelly 
dear jruthkelly,
i am reminded of one of my poems “highway and the stranger” where i emphasize the horizon of cables where the raindrops are fragiledly clinging to. i can feel the same sentiment on this poem, which you did exquisitely ripping them off from some oriental country scene. love this!
i had this gripping longing within, seeking some form of expression and the image my friend (of many travels) sent me came to mind. i felt it would give my soul the needful catalyzing impetus for vocalizing this inner ache, guiding me out of the womb of feltness into at least a hint of expression. and it did. a great experience. and made richer by your insights… thank you…
“all these lines”; I love how this starts, especially. Like you are fascinated with dots, Ruth, I am fascinated and intrigued with line. Beautiful poem.
lines are lovely, on so many levels, bridges, compilations of tiny lil substances forming a shape, a connection. :0)