We Watched A Falling Star

 
 I was so tender-hearted 

when I loved you,

years ago in a Northern hamlet

by a glacial lake.
My hopes for love 

were still intact then

noble and sacred edifices

constructed from an ancient narrative;

grand yet vulnerable 

like the Buddhist statues at Bamiyan

before they were destroyed.
We watched 

that star fall together,

one night when we sat

in thoughtful companionship by the lake edge.

Deer crept stealthily through the pines behind us

and we watched it

swirl across the sky 

like 4th of July fireworks,

then plummet.
Now my heart knows

what can happen

to majestic things.
Though I no longer hope

for you,

I still 

remember

everything.

Master Shaman

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I don’t know how to describe the way

you beckoned me

with the subtle gestures

of your dreaming

back to you,

back to your tribe.

I just know

that you showed up one day,

in your black pick up truck.

You came for me,

feigning shyness in such a genuine manner

that it matched my own.

I greeted you in pale pink.

You embraced me, grasped my hands in yours,

and your wrists were adorned with silver and turquoise.

Your voice was soft and worn

as an ancient whisper,

gravelly with desert sand

and the language of the mesas,

the rhythmic intonations

of your native tongue.

I was struck

with the strangeness

of how familiar you were,

even despite the fact

that I had never really known you

that well.

Yet I felt the presence of my old love

lingering inside you like a shadow.

He was there with you

even as he wasn’t.

Like a father and son,

like Er and Judah

with Tamar.

I knew

about your powers.

I knew

you could see,

with eyes of

visionary artistry,

the invisible threads,

the divine loom,

the sacred weaving

that holds this mysterious tapestry

of life

sewn together,

as I do.

In your letters,

you described to me,

with exquisite detail and accuracy,

the adornment of my own inner corridors and rooms,

the delicate landscape of my imagination.

You journeyed with me

inside that realm,

a Master Shaman.

You were an unexpected gift,

a medicine

for my heart.

I did not imagine

that my past

would return

to claim me,

that I was still

so cherished.

When you held me close,

I breathed deep

of the warm depths of my personal history,

feeling your love,

enveloping, expansive,

doubled by its hidden twin.

Like an old lover coming back for more.
Just what fits.

Treat

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You started me off
with the whip,
just tickling me
with the leather strands,
teasing;
the licks felt like feathers,
like whispers.

Then you drizzled almond oil
down my backside,
warm and viscous,
honey oozing over a peach;
dew seeped from the delicate blossoms
inside of me
and I craved
your sting,
your hardness.

So you gave me my treat.
You parted my flesh,
cleaved me
again and again,
taking me apart
until you touched the deepest part of me,
where past and present merge in a crescendo
of pleasure,
hallowing and restoring me,
and I took the guise
of the goddess
you have made me:
Pua Nani.

Lost Love

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I wandered
lost,
in a fantasy
of love,
thick like a forest
with twisted branches and hidden paths,
with fairy dust that illuminated foliage in the morning, like dew.
And the howls of strange monsters that echoed through the land
as dusk fell
into night.
Dream
or nightmare,
this was
my own heart of darkness,
my own Amazon jungle,
with you
as my guide,
native to
this beautiful depravity.

I am lost still
in you.

Hoping to find
my way
to love.

Your Scent

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Sitting next to me,
sharing a mundane moment,
I just barely inhale
your scent,
a subtle whiff
of cherished memory
that tempts me.

Desire uncoils
like a serpent,
wraps itself around my heart
and clenches
tightly,
cutting off my circulation,
almost breaking
the poor wretched thing
into a million
hopeful little pieces.

How can I ever lift this curse?

The curse of wanting you
in every possible way.