change changes change

through the I Ching lens
softly a song
lamentations of steadfastness
silvery stone idols childishly
clinging to iron mountains
insensitive to bristling earth
spinning eyes of fire up
before a gourd of ash
resonating the native fear
hoarding warm-blooded
skins of tears against time
under rabid furs of wit
in gathered lost age lakes
in moist dark vaults
waiting
always waiting
for reflection eternal

but a sympathetic glow
warps the glass beneath
the song of change is soft
and softer still
and heard twice as clear

Love,
Rev. MoonPie

trance trench dance

entrance
the gypsy with no eyes
the beat of dark vegetable matter
breaking up into rings of energy
thus the ceremony begins
thus voodoo is child
crawling up trees
kicking down fruit with bare feet
tossing heavenly body chicken bones
into the soft exactness of now
this trance of clarity
prophecy doesn't need to say
it's just a bum in nobody's world
a raw meat priest
making no claims on the future
as psychedelic trails of movement
brush stillness in electric wisps
a humble hollow bag of tricks
a casual expansion of prayer
praying for ignorance and rain
no one can say what the future holds
when the grip is loose
and there is laughter
way up in the tree of life

Love,
Rev. MoonPie