Wind Chiming

Lying lazily awake
breathing to the bing bong breeze
poofing on the copper paddle
dangling from what hangs within
banging against liberty bell pipes.

Inhale easy up to four, then
blow out slower down to eight
while the wind keeps unseen time
in a beatless meter, clock of ether.

Echoes fade as I fall
home feeling cradled
netted in gossamer guylines all
slung in a feathery web:
air’s elastic bones.

Footless, fancy, I frolic
with no-body: a geist in the sky.
I sweep the waves to sea-land-sea.
I churn the flames from tree to tree,
a chthonic gust. Chaos must.

Still, lying by the chimes,
breathing you draw me in
pull me deep, let me swim
in your blood. Use me up,
spit me out, set spirit free.

I crave your gummy lungs,
to fill your flesh with our will,
so I poof that copper paddle,
seduce you to inspire.
Then I swim into your eyes
breaking open for sunrise,
into ears hearing me chiming.