Oestrus, This Birth

 

 I made love to the desert,

to the pinyon pines,

to juniper smoke and dried lavender,

planted my seeds there

in the springtime snow.


I sang to blue cornmeal

and Mother Spirits.

I danced to the gnarled riffs of blues guitar,

cradled myself in the music of bluegrass hymns,

slept with the ancestors, 

huddled in woven blankets.

We laughed through hardships,

warmed our hearts with stories.


We were native to each other.


Wildflowers 

of a graceful future 

blossomed from my womb,

intrepid dreams with deep bulbs

for roots.


I left these plantings,

these beautiful parts of myself,

like frozen buds,

there, on tribal land,

at the peak 

of a sacred mountain.


They tended to themselves 

in my absence.

They grew, 

with inchoate longings.


They were souls

that shimmered in the high desert starry night sky

waiting to be formed

by the magic 

of love.


They were medicine spells cast 

like lines

in the subtle poetry 

of the otherworld.


This year,

destiny bloomed,

a green shoot

in springtime.

The seed of your body 

nestling inside my rich and fertile ground;

my sweet scent 

of geraniums flooding your senses.

I am thawed,

warmed

by your raging heat.


This birth

will come

to be.








Sometimes I Love You

20140225-141405.jpg
Sometimes I love you
in a way
that bends the mind.

Sometimes I love you so much
that I soar through the night
on my little witches’ broomstick
all the way to the end of the Earth
to see you,
to hold your body against mine
and kiss your lips.

Sometimes I love you so much
that marvelous food pours forth
from the tips of my nipples,
elaborate meals, with meats and vegetables, sumptuous and satisfying,
as I sense your hunger
and wish
to feed you
from my own breast.

Sometimes I love you so much
that I lay golden eggs
in the gilded nest of my bedroom,
full of dreams
for you,
of whatever your heart desires,
like a djinni goddess of the midday boudoir,
dressed in sexy lingerie,
so that you may nurture them to maturity
with the seed
of your passion.

Sometimes I love you
and my heart stretches open
to accommodate you
as you penetrate
the inner sanctum of my soul.

Sometimes you enter me so hard,
so forcefully,
that cracks and fissures appear
within the fragile walls
of my being.

Sometimes I love you.
And sometimes not.

Our Two Dreams

photo-207

At one time,

our two dreams fit snugly together

like grooves on a railroad track,

pointing in one singular direction.

 

Our journey was to a destination that we both envisioned,

one of surprising magic.

 

We traveled to a little hamlet across state lines,

where teapots were shaped like Aladdin’s lamp

and filled with healing brews,

and wishes were granted

in real time.

 

We drank medicine of the spirit

from the space between

our souls.

 

A fox crossed our path,

a star shot out of the sky.

One night I sang a duet of inner music with you

and the harmony of our voices

sweetened sulfurous hot springs water

and black Montana night,

and the milky patina of stars dancing overhead.

 

It is cliched to say

that I will love for you forever.

But I will.

 

Yet our trains ran off the track

and almost crashed.

Now we run on separate lines.

Maybe someday we will be reborn trolleys

and meet

in San Francisco.

 

Until then, I still look for you

in every old beat up blue Toyota Camry station wagon

that passes me by

on the road,

as I make my way

into the unknown

each day

on my own.

Please

photo-195

“Do I dare put the dream market on display?” — Anne Sexton

 

Please do not steal

my gilded words, carefully crafted,

from the tip of my heart’s pen, stained as it is

with the ink of my blood.

 

Please do not rip

my precious fluttering heart

out from the velvety folds of my delicately embroidered hope chest,

so innocently beating.

 

Please

do not dim

my small spark of radiant life,

vibrantly aglow,

effusive with love and agony,

my intrepid inner lantern

lighting me

along the path

of my soul.

 

 

Please.