Let Love: another poem, on effort + surrender

For me, at this juncture, love and movement are getting close to synonymous. This poem is called “Let Love”


Let love come easy.
Let love be free of effort,
as it is, already its nature,
that is to say
we are saying already
too much.


Ask the Lover
—and here, think of no one
but that luminous white ball
inside a breast, feeding new life—
Ask the Lover
how much effort is happening
in her Love. She may answer with
a gaze like you’d asked
“how many is green?”


You are asking body ethers.jpg
“Is this Love?”

But really, there is something else
you want to know.

Find out that.
The question, not the answer.

Bit by bit, you fall to pieces.

And there is nothing, Love,
nothing here to fear.

— LB
Nov 2015, WA
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