Reunion

Every single God-granted map Real and illusory Points to the same Joy-screamed madness That: Life is bubbles! The cousin I never met A brilliant gem of A human cut from the Same block of Pulsing love that pre-dates, Pre-births all material Earth, and the Botany, musical and massive, The seasons, turning and Blood-forming, forming the Fibers of the Cape as My uncle, twenty-eight years estranged, Shows me--me, with the awe-struck Shock of eight million miracles. I tremble through my own Blood working, pumping, and Traversing all around me on The crisp grass managed by A father who knows quiet Love, practiced and performed Through riotous reunion. An uncle I've only now met. A cousin now grown and giving, Giving me more Coffee as the morning paper Bleeds into her Spanish homework And all other brilliant trimmings the Family mills through the lines of property as... That I ran out of time for--four days Is not enough. But forty days was just right. And if we took that trek We would sprint into the Throughness of the blackness Of the night, arm and arm or not at all, As individual as we please to be (And do we ever please to be) With an army of lungs quaking from each Spiked song, smoking out and into all forty nights And we grab each other without touching Through the fog, unexpectedly, heartpoundingly, Letting all things, real and illusoreal, Just be. And that's all family really Demands of us, anyway. To just be. Just be there. And feel the mad-sparks bubble. Let the love-barks rumble. And the sadness, crumble Through our sacred union of hands.