making a bone broth of me
cooking tendons of need
clear down
delicious fat and richness
from my full bodiment
boiled down
caramelized shame
fire roasted shame
fig leaf soaked shame
layers
of collective legs
there, tasted in the slurp
hot from a dipping spoon
you are here
not in the soup line
but in the building nonetheless
familiar with the recipe
available for consultation
with the apprentice
master
all in one
thank you pot
and water
and flame
and thank you space
and atmosphere
in which it all can happen
and in which we all
can hear the dinner bell
now with liquid ears of
life.
Life as Improv 
This reminds me somehow of Shel Silverstein’s poetry; for the introspective and brave spiritual explorer, rather than for a child. Clever, honest, and funny with a wink. Slurp it up!
Oh my goodness, how are you?! Poetry schmoetry – how’s A in the west flowing into her new terrain with discoveries and change around every bend?
Yes… so many skins and scars and scuffed dispositions dissolving into the building blocks of new life… I like to think that it’s really transformation that renews us, the reconfiguring of the basic stock of being we’ve been given into whatever forms will serve us next…!
Hope you are well, M!
Michael
MM!
I adore the wording “scuffed dispositions”! So accurate. 🙂 Daily bone soup around here – hope the same is true for you! What is next for all these bones and how will they reconfigure next? Maybe that old song about bone connections will get a new ordering: leg bone connected to the chin bone connected to the air bone connected to the imagination bone. Waving and smiling your way! m
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