I made your jaw drop. Made your eyes see anew.
I saw that you wanted.
Blanket yourself and heaven in the novelty of falling so deep, deep in love.
And with every pass of spiral, clockwork dance, your eyes lie upon my face and drink it in.
The knowing of the soul, I can read it as a book across the color changed cosmos. Your eyes, glacial, deep sea, beaming sun rays.
I see it now. You see me, and know you will find in me what you want. Every time pleased to find that it is there.
Pleased and not surprised.
Still your jaw drops as you are pleased, but not really surprised to find you have an appreciation of deep, deep love.
And in this way you are mine. Your are not my noun, but you have gazed upon me and felt the trembling of the Earth. In this way, you are mine. You have met me through the triumph that is pain. In this way, you are mine. You have tasted my soul and felt nourished. In this way, you are mine.
Monday, October 13, 2014
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Combo Breaker
A piece I am particularly attached to. I wrote it for another location, but would like to include it here, as well.
Ripping my mindset out and apart. Starting again. Starting fresh. Fresh veg. Appreciation of meat. Hungry only when I am hungry.
Momma always says she's fat. Grandma always says she's fat. I wish my body was nice.
My leaders, my foremothers. they hate their bodies. So I hate mine, too.
Obviously, my pubescent, pudgy body is also flawed.
I mean, My God! My mother was thin, God Damn It! And I, a child, was able to (and often did) wear her clothing. They fit me. Not well. Not on the undefined body of a youngster. Mother was proportional, something that I did not understand until later.
There's no escape, and I shall accept my fate.
I too shall make temple in an improper let down of a body. A disgrace. I will worship my woman's shame. The lack of control. The spite harbored in each and every meal. I will whisper teary prayers of thanks for the dismal slob I am meant to be.
Thank you, God.
Divine as you are,
You knew I could not handle being pretty.
Thank you, God.
You always knew that I was weak.
It's good for me to see it in my elders. The constant and very vocal body struggle and self distaste. The solid stone repetitiveness of history. The constant in my life, the ever-present up and down kamikaze crash and burn hopes and dreams of failed fad dieting. It was soothing. The early learning of the grumbles always hand in hand with body motion. Running is for masochists. Women can't do real push-ups. Sit-ups are an excruciating chore, but they target the stomach which is my problem area. I don't have time to do all the rest, let's hope that this does the trick.
It doesn't.
This is a failed marriage of Body, Soul and Mind.
These lovers were never meant to try.
It's out of my hands.
Destiny wills it.
God billed it.
Invited us in.
Set us up with lights, cameras, action.
And this is what we became.
It's the same, all down the line of generations and there is no way to escape from us, this blood runs thick like our middles. It's best just to accept.
Wait...
No.
NO.
This is not who I am.
This is not going to define who I am.
This,
I'm going to have to unlearn.
Body you are mine and you will bend to me. I am heaven and this is how I function. I am not afraid of you, as I am not afraid of the gate along the fence, the threshold that holds me in and holds my home. I am not afraid to have a functioning, fertile, lovely body. In what way did this become a significant and frightening thing to be? This is truly an absurdity. Why am I afraid to have a normal, rational, working body? That's not wrong or creepy. This is what nature wants of me.
And each drop on the scale, Every Single Size of Jeans lost, I hold my breath and fight off anxiety and terror. It melts off like candlewax. In a burst, then stability, then a bit more. I feel my soul holding up and elongating my spine. Stay in there tough guy. Huh, how about that, I'm holding my head up high. Oh god, I feel like the sun rising. I feel caressed and kissed and shivering. My body is right.
I love my body.
And My Body Loves Me.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale Exhale.
Inhale.
It's OK.
Exhale.
I have a normalizing, fairly attractive, effective and functional body. This is nothing to fear.
Inhale.
Drop tension.
Exhale.
I love my body
and my body loves me.
Ripping my mindset out and apart. Starting again. Starting fresh. Fresh veg. Appreciation of meat. Hungry only when I am hungry.
Momma always says she's fat. Grandma always says she's fat. I wish my body was nice.
My leaders, my foremothers. they hate their bodies. So I hate mine, too.
Obviously, my pubescent, pudgy body is also flawed.
I mean, My God! My mother was thin, God Damn It! And I, a child, was able to (and often did) wear her clothing. They fit me. Not well. Not on the undefined body of a youngster. Mother was proportional, something that I did not understand until later.
There's no escape, and I shall accept my fate.
I too shall make temple in an improper let down of a body. A disgrace. I will worship my woman's shame. The lack of control. The spite harbored in each and every meal. I will whisper teary prayers of thanks for the dismal slob I am meant to be.
Thank you, God.
Divine as you are,
You knew I could not handle being pretty.
Thank you, God.
You always knew that I was weak.
It's good for me to see it in my elders. The constant and very vocal body struggle and self distaste. The solid stone repetitiveness of history. The constant in my life, the ever-present up and down kamikaze crash and burn hopes and dreams of failed fad dieting. It was soothing. The early learning of the grumbles always hand in hand with body motion. Running is for masochists. Women can't do real push-ups. Sit-ups are an excruciating chore, but they target the stomach which is my problem area. I don't have time to do all the rest, let's hope that this does the trick.
It doesn't.
This is a failed marriage of Body, Soul and Mind.
These lovers were never meant to try.
It's out of my hands.
Destiny wills it.
God billed it.
Invited us in.
Set us up with lights, cameras, action.
And this is what we became.
It's the same, all down the line of generations and there is no way to escape from us, this blood runs thick like our middles. It's best just to accept.
Wait...
No.
NO.
This is not who I am.
This is not going to define who I am.
This,
I'm going to have to unlearn.
Body you are mine and you will bend to me. I am heaven and this is how I function. I am not afraid of you, as I am not afraid of the gate along the fence, the threshold that holds me in and holds my home. I am not afraid to have a functioning, fertile, lovely body. In what way did this become a significant and frightening thing to be? This is truly an absurdity. Why am I afraid to have a normal, rational, working body? That's not wrong or creepy. This is what nature wants of me.
And each drop on the scale, Every Single Size of Jeans lost, I hold my breath and fight off anxiety and terror. It melts off like candlewax. In a burst, then stability, then a bit more. I feel my soul holding up and elongating my spine. Stay in there tough guy. Huh, how about that, I'm holding my head up high. Oh god, I feel like the sun rising. I feel caressed and kissed and shivering. My body is right.
I love my body.
And My Body Loves Me.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale Exhale.
Inhale.
It's OK.
Exhale.
I have a normalizing, fairly attractive, effective and functional body. This is nothing to fear.
Inhale.
Drop tension.
Exhale.
I love my body
and my body loves me.
Debt
I am standing, stock-still, at the starting gate, staring my five-year committed relationship right in the face. It sprawls lazily in front of me, taking up too much room, breathing loudly, hovering across my upcoming years, the years leading into my 30's.
I want the easy way out. I want to find a way. I want to beat it down and flip the couch over it and dash out the front door. I want to whittle away the minutes, hours, days. I want out of this in three years, no, two! Hell, I don't even want to begin, but I have. And I'm eyeing my path down this long stretch. Is it worth it?
But there's a Boon of opportunity just over the edge of these 5 years. It's golden on the other side.
I will gracefully, purposefully, find my way to it.
On the other side of that, someone is waiting for me. Someone will be there and they will annihilate my restraints. I will hungrily pull a deep and satisfying breath into my lungs and I will dive into my Divine Calling.
They won't let me in, but I worry every crack and crevice of this boundary. I know the blockade well. I love it. I sing to it. I nourish it. Because I know that at some point I am getting through. So I will know every inch of the outside of this wall, while I can, because I am getting through. Once I get to the other side, I've got things to do, and best not to dally here doing no things.
O, it is so worth it.
I want the easy way out. I want to find a way. I want to beat it down and flip the couch over it and dash out the front door. I want to whittle away the minutes, hours, days. I want out of this in three years, no, two! Hell, I don't even want to begin, but I have. And I'm eyeing my path down this long stretch. Is it worth it?
But there's a Boon of opportunity just over the edge of these 5 years. It's golden on the other side.
I will gracefully, purposefully, find my way to it.
On the other side of that, someone is waiting for me. Someone will be there and they will annihilate my restraints. I will hungrily pull a deep and satisfying breath into my lungs and I will dive into my Divine Calling.
They won't let me in, but I worry every crack and crevice of this boundary. I know the blockade well. I love it. I sing to it. I nourish it. Because I know that at some point I am getting through. So I will know every inch of the outside of this wall, while I can, because I am getting through. Once I get to the other side, I've got things to do, and best not to dally here doing no things.
O, it is so worth it.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Coming Home
Ovulation swing me.
Hunting for an angular face.
Here I am swinging my hips.
Dewey eyes for the goodbye kiss.
The night before.
The attention's got me sore.
Effortless, it's easy for the sweets.
Magic tricks, Watch me disappear.
Remember when I was a lioness.
Circled in the guitar grip.
Legs to the heaven air.
Prayers on the orgasmic swears.
Snow muffled my God's ears.
Help us here.
Coffee pot to hear.
And the stars up in space.
Gravitationally supporting a new lover's embrace.
God, your a delight.
A boxer holding golden light on knuckles trained right.
Held up by armadillo might.
Beauty in the passenger seat.
Hair done up lovely.
Angels, majestic, all fantastic.
Taught you when to fight.
I saw you engage with your charms and downright grit.
But I trained upon God's crown.
Hailed by mighty meditating monks.
Shameless in riotous, slobbering songs of praise.
Pinned taut on starlight wire.
Harmony spitting out.
Vibrations acting in the outward spiral
Of same, sweet nautilus shell.
Straight from the Seraph that makes dwelling
Among the clutching, licking tidal
Fleshy Star Dust Center
Radiating Red
Of My Existing.
Panting. Humming.
All a part of all in the humid, pressing air
And always, always climbing.
A quiver and a thrilling.
Shrilling
Out in celestial seafoam engulfed on the tongue of Holy Hot Breath.
Every adulation undulating under slow, deep, heavy pressing of all the breathing, fainting.
Creating
So completely
The world is gone and ended, none is within reach
And everything that is now nothing is all that ever was and receded into such complete creation all is all around and existing to the extent of extravagance.
Oh God
Holy
Creator
Created
and Filled
Every
Crater.
So breathe.
Wrap us up in unfathomable, galaxial shrouds, unworldly
And dusted with
Springy, Fertile Soil.
Breath
Hunting for an angular face.
Here I am swinging my hips.
Dewey eyes for the goodbye kiss.
The night before.
The attention's got me sore.
Effortless, it's easy for the sweets.
Magic tricks, Watch me disappear.
Remember when I was a lioness.
Circled in the guitar grip.
Legs to the heaven air.
Prayers on the orgasmic swears.
Snow muffled my God's ears.
Help us here.
Coffee pot to hear.
And the stars up in space.
Gravitationally supporting a new lover's embrace.
God, your a delight.
A boxer holding golden light on knuckles trained right.
Held up by armadillo might.
Beauty in the passenger seat.
Hair done up lovely.
Angels, majestic, all fantastic.
Taught you when to fight.
I saw you engage with your charms and downright grit.
But I trained upon God's crown.
Hailed by mighty meditating monks.
Shameless in riotous, slobbering songs of praise.
Pinned taut on starlight wire.
Harmony spitting out.
Vibrations acting in the outward spiral
Of same, sweet nautilus shell.
Straight from the Seraph that makes dwelling
Among the clutching, licking tidal
Fleshy Star Dust Center
Radiating Red
Of My Existing.
Panting. Humming.
All a part of all in the humid, pressing air
And always, always climbing.
A quiver and a thrilling.
Shrilling
Out in celestial seafoam engulfed on the tongue of Holy Hot Breath.
Every adulation undulating under slow, deep, heavy pressing of all the breathing, fainting.
Creating
So completely
The world is gone and ended, none is within reach
And everything that is now nothing is all that ever was and receded into such complete creation all is all around and existing to the extent of extravagance.
Oh God
Holy
Creator
Created
and Filled
Every
Crater.
So breathe.
Wrap us up in unfathomable, galaxial shrouds, unworldly
And dusted with
Springy, Fertile Soil.
Breath
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Love Juliana Sings the Sea
Love Juliana is hungry on the bedroom floor.
Watching the beads of rain roll up, back into the night.
They line the mirrored door and light at the glow of her cigarette.
Love Juliana counts the animals in her celestial connect-the-dots.
We are singing Save My Soul, holding hands.
Shouting to the Sea, she wants to come meet me.
Fires lit at the bases of our young spines,
Great wings grown with the tenderness of passion rebellion.
Love Juliana gets entangled in the trees,
Sheltered, tented by the sturdiness of practical bed sheets.
I scattered them across the floor.
The wind swept them out the door.
Along with Love Juliana.
The menagerie weeps and dances in a sorrow.
O God, all I can think is that it's all so beautiful.
Love Juliana is up, cocooned in that towering, moss soaked tree.
I'm smoking her cigarette. It was on the floor.
She would have wanted it to be me.
Love Juliana.
Singing the mist that leaps.
Hanging grey.
You'll dive back into that jade green of the sea.
Love Juliana, she wants me.
Watching the beads of rain roll up, back into the night.
They line the mirrored door and light at the glow of her cigarette.
Love Juliana counts the animals in her celestial connect-the-dots.
We are singing Save My Soul, holding hands.
Shouting to the Sea, she wants to come meet me.
Fires lit at the bases of our young spines,
Great wings grown with the tenderness of passion rebellion.
Love Juliana gets entangled in the trees,
Sheltered, tented by the sturdiness of practical bed sheets.
I scattered them across the floor.
The wind swept them out the door.
Along with Love Juliana.
The menagerie weeps and dances in a sorrow.
O God, all I can think is that it's all so beautiful.
Love Juliana is up, cocooned in that towering, moss soaked tree.
I'm smoking her cigarette. It was on the floor.
She would have wanted it to be me.
Love Juliana.
Singing the mist that leaps.
Hanging grey.
You'll dive back into that jade green of the sea.
Love Juliana, she wants me.
Hot Bath Beauty
Shape shifting, body of the flower,
Glazed in celestial Autumn's tears.
Stretching upward in defiance of the Earth's pull.
Wrapped in corduroy hip huggers.
Muscles worked up at the wonder,
Because I'm no longer offended
At being a thing of beauty.
A magpie's collection of glinting silver circlets,
Blackbirds nest of warm wools.
Hair up, secured in a loose pile up top of my head.
Show me your bones and get on the track.
Follow, follow. You're in a star-powered forward motion.
I got educated on the dryer lint and cobweb sheen
That I'm told I don't get to keep near and dear to me.
Hold tight to me I'm winding and I'm firing.
Stripped up and strapped to the tornado of your eyes.
The distance thumps with thunder
And the constant is December chill
Keeping you chattering through your teeth.
See that I am sweating.
Twisting, little thing.
Sweet sea urchin.
Shifting with the love of the ocean.
Drag of the tide in and out,
Left a sticky residue on the branches
Lining up your lungs
With the tobacco smoke
We sit sharing.
Everything is wrapped in
Finally.
Glazed in celestial Autumn's tears.
Stretching upward in defiance of the Earth's pull.
Wrapped in corduroy hip huggers.
Muscles worked up at the wonder,
Because I'm no longer offended
At being a thing of beauty.
A magpie's collection of glinting silver circlets,
Blackbirds nest of warm wools.
Hair up, secured in a loose pile up top of my head.
Show me your bones and get on the track.
Follow, follow. You're in a star-powered forward motion.
I got educated on the dryer lint and cobweb sheen
That I'm told I don't get to keep near and dear to me.
Hold tight to me I'm winding and I'm firing.
Stripped up and strapped to the tornado of your eyes.
The distance thumps with thunder
And the constant is December chill
Keeping you chattering through your teeth.
See that I am sweating.
Twisting, little thing.
Sweet sea urchin.
Shifting with the love of the ocean.
Drag of the tide in and out,
Left a sticky residue on the branches
Lining up your lungs
With the tobacco smoke
We sit sharing.
Everything is wrapped in
Finally.
Monday, November 19, 2012
Round Rhythm
Cyclical in serenity, growth like large forest ferns.
Reach up and pray, wipe away Fir's tears.
Heaven beams shift and break, but do not sway.
Mother ate, savored each last bite there was to take.
Loved and hummed and peaked warmly by the fire.
Slowly kissed blossom away, offered to the river.
Walkers haunting, they are among great girths.
With many faces and dry, tired eyes observing.
Blanketed up to the necks. Moss and feathers.
Snake coils, pulses. Shoulders herself forward through each constriction
Breaks free, drapes across the sun-held boulder to bask, tension gradual in release
She's a beautiful stretch
Even as she's hunched
Cramped with creativity
Hungry for air and water
Turned tired by the moon.
She's lovely to look at
Supine in the bed
Dreaming and Weeping
Condensing and mending
Clearing
Refilling
Sending
Dropping.
Supple and flexible arms are outreaching.
A hunter's strength for moments of embracing.
Wind's slight brush, subtle valor of the hawk.
Ritual of the Lover's Circlet by a Zodiac Warrior.
Reach up and pray, wipe away Fir's tears.
Heaven beams shift and break, but do not sway.
Mother ate, savored each last bite there was to take.
Loved and hummed and peaked warmly by the fire.
Slowly kissed blossom away, offered to the river.
Walkers haunting, they are among great girths.
With many faces and dry, tired eyes observing.
Blanketed up to the necks. Moss and feathers.
Snake coils, pulses. Shoulders herself forward through each constriction
Breaks free, drapes across the sun-held boulder to bask, tension gradual in release
She's a beautiful stretch
Even as she's hunched
Cramped with creativity
Hungry for air and water
Turned tired by the moon.
She's lovely to look at
Supine in the bed
Dreaming and Weeping
Condensing and mending
Clearing
Refilling
Sending
Dropping.
Supple and flexible arms are outreaching.
A hunter's strength for moments of embracing.
Wind's slight brush, subtle valor of the hawk.
Ritual of the Lover's Circlet by a Zodiac Warrior.
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