Dancing Past Rumi

It took 41 years 

and I still don’t move 

or look like you 

but I sensed to expect 

no conventional answer from transience. 

Like this? Like this? 

Question is better answer than answer 

or action than word 

even if to speak and say No
this is not more true than that 

and Yes this may be

but for reasons I cannot fully discern

as go many patterns from peak to cavern

it could be something else 
remains the way I understand the feeling 

the soul molting questions 

is ready to fly. 

-------------------------------------------------------
 

Dancing like Lennon at Heathrow 

like the kids on the street 

like the girls of Ibiza-- 

too shy and ill to celebrate  

in body what I feel to be carefree!

laughing in the excess anyway-- 

like two drunks after a good night say

What I seek will reach and touch me, as you said!

I see. Like this? Like this? 

Maybe, maybe not.  

Maybe the touch has already been felt 

never to return but memorized  

by the invisible scout. 

I refuse no question put to me 

or earthly passion expensive idolatry

is nicer than the stars. A night nicely dressed 

with no choice but to say yes  

to sun moon and wildfire

or the raw frost of February.  

Tonight challenge me 

to dance with you in the flesh.

Like this? Like this? 

I cannot express my bliss. I am repressed. 

And life’s become too young to fight the fascists 

who move to delete me. 

I am a flamingo with no rhythm.

My niece laughs at me and it hurts. 

I am the man

they put the screws to when it counts

so cut me some slack

my magic man.

I know what you mean
and when again I trust I’ll try.

Like this.