Hummingbird Sutra

vibration surrenders to vibration
cloistered living room of holy, holy- stiff, starch, white
pursed lips- halo O
prayer books pressed in palms obedient

like hummingbird rope, can’t jump to skip- tone deaf into Portuguese Jesus and Mary hymns, ayahuasca- the first, the same as the last, warm accelerated-sense-under skin- heavy, heavy pulsing world- fuzzy white sweater strangle hold- wet pungent tea tree oil pits and heaving solar plexus rift-

to open the body to plant (the) wisdom

and receive, receive, receive-
not interspecies communication or spirits to enter to rattle the limbs—
but thoughts to sit lotus, watch, witness—

I think sometimes I am the room-
only a room with those who walk through me

breathe, ( ), breathe, ( ), breathe,

cat purrs heal fractured bones

( ), breathe, ( ), breathe, ( )

the buzzing rattle of consciousness

breathe, ( ), breathe, ( ), breathe,

how is it she is in love with him

( ), breathe, ( ), breathe, ( )

summoned to chair- hummingbird hymn

( ), breathe, ( ), breathe, ( )

Rocking or heaving, heaving stomach now- pressed against porcelain rim- to stare at throw up purple and connect with silent, raw bobbing

but Daime mistress enters bathroom to pull back hair
place disinfectant on open palms- with soft herding, sweet vacant stare

( ), breathe, ( ), breathe, ( )

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“Well your body seems to get it; you’re glowing”

like light emptying a veined leaf

“Don’t over intellectualize the experience.”

Discriminating awareness or mind raining in the hydrangea and azalea relief