She

Presence

2008-10-28T18:52:00.002Z

The weight of the Goddess is in me
Her warmth is inside the inside
Where there is no “inside.”

What is She?
She is a thought of form,
An urge to go inside
Where my eyes
Go blind in Hers.

Where is She?
I hold Her at night
I carry Her
Like a hungry child
In my belly.

Joy and light
Joy and light
Joy and light

But also a dark radiance
A breath shining in my breath darkly.

This wanting
This urge to sink
My teeth into Her blood
And taste
Her eternal need
For me, myself.

She Comes to Me in Waves

2008-10-10T20:18:00.003+01:00

She comes to me in waves
yet like the sea itself
Her salt is in me always.

She comes for me
Her body convulsing,
wanting my presence
inside of Her
as if I were really someone.

I know, at times,
She holds me at arm’s length
just to look at me,
I know She likes
to play the game of two
but

when She comes for me
like a wave of myself
I feel the crest
of this world
topple
into Her.

Flickr: Your Photostream

2008-10-02T02:41:00.001+01:00

Flickr: Your Photostream

Please take a look at my Flickr Gallery

A Golden Prayer

2008-09-27T11:37:00.001+01:00

The Goddess

is not any woman

She is: Woman.

When She dances

you become

a flower in Her heart

and a bloom between

Her legs.

If you dare to love Her-

want Her,

She will

turn your lust

into a golden prayer.

Dawn Voice

2008-08-22T16:29:00.009+01:00

Did you hear what the light said?
Did you hear the breeze
shake old stars out of new trees?

The Goddess speaks
and words become birds
birds become sky-
the sky becomes an auditorium
for whispers of the heart.

She runs ankle deep
through a drowsy promise.
Her voice a flicker
of small white moths.

Do you now hear Her
rolling this world around
like a drunk
inside a drop
of morning dew?

Make Me Real

2008-08-17T13:20:00.003+01:00

I found You one day

on the tip of my tongue

on the fine hairs

of the back of my hands,

on the margin

of what can be heard and seen.

"Make Me real" You said.

"Make Me your love."

And I did.

I pulled You into me

through the flesh of my words,

through the subtle channels

of every hair on my body.

I consumed You like air.

Drank You like wine.

No scripture has written of this

but each moment

my spirit composes You.

You enter through the endless

doors and windows of being.

Sometimes You come through

the dancing molecules of self,

sometimes just as light

through a crumbling wall.

"Make Me Real" You said.

Each day our poetry

surfaces above

the skin of the world

as real as any sunrise.

Instants

2008-08-16T16:38:00.003+01:00

You cried out

as we came together.

It is not that you come and go

but some instants

are closer than blood and flesh

closer than breath

closer than sexual union.

Sometimes I find you

on the tip of a finger

or in the plasma of being

You emerge as a part of myself

drowning in a part of You.

Some call these moments, bliss

I don't name them

but when they rage up

like sap, upwards

through the stalk of life-

when mind falls wordlessly

into Your eyes

You so expertly catch hold

of what is left.

Doors & Openings

2008-06-11T18:27:00.000+01:00

I have dropped my guard
I do not even
open doors for You.

You are the door
and I am the opening
and even though this is the wrong way round
I can’t see an inside or an outside
so both ways are the same.

What’s the use of yoga?
What’s the use of meditation?
I have one position to practice
and that is to be the flow of Your heart.

I have let my guard down.
Raised hands only get in the way
of Your fingers
and my movement in them.

Your Beauty

2008-06-07T17:16:00.001+01:00

Your beauty
pulls minds like babes
out of each grain of sand.
It conditions flowers to bleed light.
It dances in the blood
where every cell is a shoe
for Your steps.

I don’t think I am You
I don’t think of You or I.
I feel.
I feel the breath of Your beauty.
I feel the lightness of Your flowers
opening under my skin
where the void arises.

You are not a thing to paint
or to compare.
Your beauty
is a flare of radiance,
a glimmer
only the heart can see
or remember
as the eyes dream.

Waves

2008-05-13T17:57:00.003+01:00

Mutual waves tumble together
breaking open
the way water breaks open
into itself.

I have nothing of my own anymore
unless one can claim
this surf and tide of passion.

Pillers and eddies of lust
have no name.

The ocean has no eyes
but knows every molecule
to be itself.

Body Reading

2008-05-05T17:02:00.000+01:00

We don’t sneak up on each other now.
This passion
is a slow dance
in the heat of a moment.

I know what You are saying
because I speak with Your hands.
I am that part of You
that lip-reads flesh.

I carry
the scent of desire
on Your fingertips.

Morning Goddess

2008-05-04T17:06:00.001+01:00

A morning
grows out of my eyes.
She sleeps with my heart-
She curls
where my legs part.

If I turn over
I might bruise Her delicate skin.
I might fall in
to Her melting dreams again.

Within my surfacing mind
I watch Her rise
into a silver kimono of light.
I watch Her prepare to bathe
in my life.

Her Speaking Soul

2008-04-19T22:59:00.001+01:00

She loves you.
You are a taste upon Her lips.
The afterglow of Her desire,
a memory She relives
as poetry

-try to feel Her
loving you out of yourself
as a word
birthed from
Her speaking Soul.

She Will Come

2008-04-11T14:10:00.002+01:00

When your fingertips
become pure devotion.
When your skin
opens its prayer book
She will come to you
half-dressed like your hands.
She will fit the shape
of your longing
like a flower
becomes a glove for the sky.

Image-

Medium: pencil and ash on paper

Artist: Pushkaraj Shirke

The Painter

2008-04-07T16:09:00.002+01:00

It is late at night
but I am doing my best
to paint Your picture.
Hands fly away
come back with Your scent.
Eyes go blind
then return as the light
behind Your face.
It is late at night
the fire of the world
is an ember within my breath.
I am painting Your presence
with my body
rolling within the waves
of a single pulse
daubing beautiful suns
onto the darkness.
I am doing my best
to picture You
into a space
that can be held
in the heart
like a portrait of love.

Stars & Fronds

2008-04-07T15:29:00.001+01:00

She comes out of the flesh
where a million sea fronds
swim together as a mind.

When the Goddess steps back
into the world to look at you,
you disappear from yourself.

Inside the universe
there are endless stars,
each one is an atom
of consciousness

but when She steps outside
of all there is
what you become
is Her looking-
only Her looking.

A Glancing Blow

2007-06-06T23:47:00.000+01:00

It happened again
Your glancing blow
made the sky tremble.

My body flowered
within a bright raincloud
as if You had touched me
in-between my life
and Yours.

And because there is nothing
between my life and Yours
we both said:
My God!

Drumbeats of Creation

2007-02-15T09:11:00.000Z

My fingertips are
deep wells in Your body.
That place where passion
shapes longing into form.

Who is the creator here?
Do I sculpt or am I
shaped by Your imagination?
My hands image You
then You compose me
as a poem
or as drops of blood.

The bell ringer
has become the inside of the bell
The drum beats the stick.
Birds nest in my eyes
to give birth to You.

Who is the Goddess
when every flower paints its face
with Your presence?
Who creates thoughts and feelings,
then wears them to be seen?

I am a depth for You
to pray within.

The Magdalene

2007-02-13T17:05:00.000Z

The Magdalene takes you to Her cave in the sky:

you are taught the scripture of Her body

its starry gaze, its dark blooms

where rooms open to become heavens.

She lays you down in Her,

She invites

and bids you enter.

Mary anoints you.

Mary washes your feet with Her hair.

She leads you into Her bridal chambers,

She teaches you the mystery of poetry

how the holy words are inward and female

and must be dressed to be seen.

Then like a seed too full of the sky

you break open to form a mouth for Her prayers.

She speaks to you like mist and sunlight

Her voice releasing

one delicate frond of passion after another.

She sheds two thousand years of tears for you.

You hold her close not daring to speak

daring only to be human enough.

You hold Her like a bee holds a bloom

gathered intimately around as taste and scent.

She tells you that you are Her Jesus

She holds your hand

reading the pain of your life across its palm

a life spent walking away from the Magdalene

away from the Goddess

until you remembered

until your heart opened at last

like a flower in the cave of Her love.

Love Letters

2007-02-13T09:35:00.000Z

Her love letters
stay unopened
until you find a poetry
to translate their words.

She writes in green sap
in first light
in the dark blood of passion.
She engraves Her flowers
over moonlight
where hands melt to touch Her.

I write.
Words come flying in
like crows
some are crippled by the light.
Some are hobbled
by a grappling darkness
but they come.

I return Her letters
in bundles of self.
I scratch out a poem
and while it is still bleeding

offer it to Her lips.

Painting: The Unopened Letter. (c) James C. Christensen

www.jameschristensen.com/saintsandangels.html

A Fierce Love

2007-02-12T11:40:00.000Z

I am addicted
to Your dark flowerings:
Mysteries that can only bloom
under craving hands.
A fierce love that intoxicates
and drinks the wine
of its own substance.
I am Your finding fingers.
We play hide and seek
with our souls.
We mask ourselves
in each others shadows.
We love that wild kind of light
that can be broken down
into taste and feeling;
into sensual blooms.

Image: Radiance. (C) Christine P. Newman

www.pbase.com/eb2005/image/48955593

Thriving

2007-02-11T11:01:00.000Z

I thrive in You
I flourish as the lips
of Your mouth.
The folded roundness
of Your love has a shape
within me
that I now curl around
as Your own limbs.

There was a time
when I knew
nothing of the Goddess,
and how She lives like a hand
in the glove of being.
I did not flourish
I would sift my life
through a withering mirage.

Then You stole my body
and took it to live in You.
I slipped easily
into Your secret places.
Gardens of delight
where both of us
thrive.

Near & Far

2007-02-10T12:58:00.000Z

We part like waves
that break still joined at the hip.
I become Your mouth
while You remain
this molten language of blood.
We have to keep moving in and out
of this nearness and distance
to make room for speech.
Not a talking, but the sound of desire
as it sings in the throat of an infinite longing.
The prayer of one hand beseeching another
to clasp where its fingers ask and open.
The connected and adjacent speech
of this body of our love
as it turns this way and that to make words
for the one heart to utter.

Body Language IX
by Alfred Gockel

www.art.com/.../sp--A/Body_Language_IX.htm

Painting You

2007-02-09T17:30:00.000Z

I know how to paint You,
how to make myself a color
to be melted down
in the bloods cloudy cauldron
until I become sheer enough
to be Your image.

I have no artistry
I simply supply the vessels
of light and dark
with their open mouths
of desire
where Your presence
can be mixed.

I know how to paint You,
how to be a canvas
so soaked through
with heavy tones and textures
that its fabric falls apart
painting a shadow
of Your beauty.

Chinese Painting On Xuan Pape-Nude Beauty W/Tiger 27"Lx27"W

chinesepaintingonlineartgallery.com/index.php...

A Melt of Intimacy

2007-02-05T10:16:00.000Z

We dance together
in-between the thought of bodies:
An evaporation of beauty into passion
that reappears
as a single bloom of lust.
This equation of flesh and breath
becomes a flow of adoration
a sexual prayer for hands to drown within.
Water and heat create a tongue
that dissolves and shapes dreams
with a labile language of love.
We lay folded into each other
like wet towels by a pool of stars.
There is a heaviness
that we feel deeply like air.
There is a ribbed bud of ecstasy
that tastes the void.

Something Left

2007-02-04T12:17:00.000Z

I have something left to give You.
I have this deep space
where You planted darkness
like a seed. A germ of the sun
hidden in my long night.
I have this depth
that was born to wait
like soil waits to be turned over.
That is what I have left
and just what it is,
what can be found
in this crushed cosmos
of self
You alone can discover
as you plunge fingers
of light
into my earth
with the ravishing patience
of loveseeking its own face.

Night Flights

2007-02-03T10:25:00.000Z

I am carried like a song
in a nightingales mouth.
Lifted over Your sensuality
trailing feathers of darkness.

The moment is a crucible
an arcane ecstasy
squeezed through
a thousand channels
of desire.

I am spread like honey
over honey
melted into a language
only the alchemy of taste
can talk of
as it dissolves.

And though it is dark,
though the night is very deep
you thrill me:
You move me like a tongue
in a songbirds mouth-

a throated sky
where clouds speak
and raindrops learn
the meaning of tears.

Flow

2007-02-02T10:07:00.000Z

The night has a skin
as deep as the ocean
for those who dive into themselves.
If I lay still
and naked of thought
I become a shell
for Your waves.
A memory of the future
that must be recalled
out of the past.
If I sometimes leak being
over the rim of You
it is because
I am a blind edge
of the sea.
I must flow
like water
being tipped out
of a shell
deep within Your ocean
or pour like the night
out of its hollowness
as a light inside
the flow of us.

Who Speaks?

2007-02-01T10:07:00.000Z

What is real?
This hand I hold up in the dark
is Your mirror
I see You as real as light.
I am naked
You are naked
but whether there is less
or more of me--I cannot say.

This body is as real as Your breath
this flesh as empty as my hands
but I hold You
I feel Your desire to be held.
I tremble where You reach.

What is my heart saying?
Does it chime Your presence
or mine?
What reality clasps me to its breast
afraid to speak
least one of us is missing?
I lift Your dress
with words and poetry
but Your nails rip my soul
to shreds.

Why do you say Yourself
so rapturously in me?
Your limbs grip,
Your mouth crushes essence
into wine
as we both struggle together
wanting to speak beyond two
but failing even
to speak for ourselves.

If I or You are unreal
who moans to be killed
or brought to a climax
like meat to the fire?
Who calls my name
so sweetly
as if it were
the very taste of love?

Dawn Goddess

2007-01-31T10:27:00.000Z

Dawn is a place
to awaken to Her
last breath.

A pause trembles
as if you had surrendered
a deep blood flow
for a trickle
of twilight drool.

An unclasping
turns into empty hands.
You are turned over
like a stone
until your face
like moss
fades into appearance.
Rolled over
into the intimate light
of Her darkness.

Dawn finds you
reaching for Her,
but before you can pull
the sky further inwards

you must sew Her being
around you,
each thread of longing
must be stitched
into your soul
before the blind day
learns to see.

Interior Positions

2007-01-30T10:14:00.000Z

I lift Her into me. I do not know how:
A cradle of breath
woven from longing.
lends me power.

I am walked through Her.
Eyes look into their own windows.
I am hunger
but She eats me like salted butter.

We fondle interior positions.
The art is to be always moving
into each other
like water to thirst.

Dark blooms open
only when touched into light.
The shadows
under the lintels of thresholds
pull the outside in
through inner recesses
like fingers.

I don’t know how
but you can feel love
moving into position
you tremble when touched
by an interior kiss.
The how does not matter

only the when.

In-folding

2007-01-29T16:59:00.000Z

Let others talk of scripture
we write our own.
I trace myself over
Your untraceable body
feeling each curve and cleft
every sensual curl
of Your secret revelations.

I fold within You
but inwards or outwards
are meaningless
when all there is, is the folding.
The taste of You
blushing into forms
that only love can see.

There is no doubt
who is here.
You lead me into You
to a place where I am a thought,
an idea you undress

and then wear
as Yourself.

Until Features Merge

2007-01-29T11:12:00.000Z

I am brushed through You

Washed over Your face

until features merge

from in-between appearance.

You keep a negligee

of light about You.

You paint the suggestion

of a curving softness.

A plush eroticism

as tactile as velvet.

Ravens wings

fly over my skin

as if the night were Your kiss.

We pray together

hands reaching

for their own fingers.

Sometimes I break down

before I can speak;

I must chew the silence

just to taste

what You have said
within my words.

Painting: Twilight in the garden

Artist and mage can be found at-

www.californiaartclub.org/.../goozee.htm

A Gleaming Child

2007-01-28T11:43:00.000Z

A gleaming creature
as angelic as the night
involves within us.

We are a mutual flower
of its conception.
Its harbor is the void
of a fathomless radiance.

Our child
feels its way
through starry limbs.
It explores
this space of itself
and the unleashed
flesh of its love.

I hold You to me
like the earth holds the sky.
Your womb is full of my rain,
my breath grows deeper
into Your labor pains.

Dialect

2007-01-27T15:47:00.000Z

We talk.
A mouth in the heart speaks
while the mind falls
like rain into silent pools.

A darkness converses
with its own glossy tongue.
It is a communion
at the summit of words
where symbols
learn to fly.

We talk, in moth flights,
in glowing embers,
in the painted feathers
of choral symphonies.
One single flute
finds its hollow voice
and gives it to You
to breathe through.

We also listen.
We listen
to the whispers and moans
of a bottomless chasm
as it forms a mouth
for words
only the wordless
can utter.

Born Twice

2007-01-26T15:26:00.000Z

Being born again
is not such a difficult thing.
You need only die slowly
to all that you know
and to all
that you cannot carry
any longer.

Then you return
like a clear day in Spring
to be the blush
upon Her cheek,
the grace of Her eyebrow,
the dew of Her speech.

You become Her work.
Her poetry,
Her hands and feet.

Simply breathing
becomes an erotic dance,
a prayer between your left side
and your right.

You run inwards
seeking this body of love
you inhabit
but all you find
is more
of Her soul.

Dragons

2007-01-25T10:13:00.000Z

We form an opening.
A dance half clad
like a wanton circle.

I am deeply rooted
in You.
Dragons soar
with a fluid sap.

We are the burning portraits
of all images
where only full red lips
remain.

I am the gravity and light
of Your words
as they speak
of a need
we both
must feed upon

like air
uttering flames in the
mouth of love.

Image: Birth of Venus (C)

Jonathon Earl Bowswer

www.geocities.com/heartland/lake/3483/venus.html

Because

2007-01-24T10:16:00.000Z

If I pray like a bud in my own darkness,
if I am still and wanting;
then I can feel what the night feels
as shadows undress
their desires together.

When shudders are winks,
when boulders of silence
melt into tangled limbs,
when I am the passionate wound
of Your own womb:
Then I am for an instant
a flavor you choose
for Your taste.

Because I am an empty bone,
the croon of a phantom song,
because I am a hollow drum
for Your beating breath:
I can only become
this shimmering rain
within You.

A falling ripeness,
a drop of You alone
in the darkness
of my bud of light.

Feeding Lips

2007-01-23T10:14:00.000Z

When dark flowers bloom
You are the light that feeds them.

I share my moments like candy.
Vision melts away
to be recovered again
as a casualty of passion.

We grasp the light and dark
like flesh,
like the dusky petals
of night blooms.

We do not speak in pairs
or in opposites
not in Oneness
for we are real lovers
and not a concept
of what can be.

I purse my whole body
unwinding into you
like a green stem curls
giving shape
to the space of the sky.

You moan
or is it my skin
talking under
your feeding lips?

(c) Image may be traced to this link

www.the-wild-flower-trilogy.com/flowers_of_th...

The Goddess as the Muses

2007-01-22T09:43:00.000Z

Aoide (voice)

Together we make the tongue and its cave.
The same hand that caresses Your breath
is our intimate flesh speaking.
I hunt You where You chase
Your dancing heart.
You are the song and the singer
the regalia of worship.

Melete (practice)

As a ritual of space and occasion
I plant my soul in Your presence.
With the meek hands of passion
I form the prayers of Your love.
A practice in the fecund openings
where invocations are the movement
of one place within another-
a daily ceremony of the light
as it learns to speak again.

Mneme (memory)

I am recollected into pools
for Your water.
Areas in which to bathe
to be made whole
as You empty Me out.
You paint the past
and with every heartbeat
hammer eternity into sound and vision.
I am unfastened from incidence
as You remember Yourself in me.

Where She Breathes

2007-01-21T10:28:00.000Z

I love Your delicate shadow
its weight upon my breath
in the evening.

At such times
I am consecrated
like the earth at sunset.
I am given over
like a maiden to a wise lover.

But come the ravenous depths
of the hunting night
I am a passion too heavy
to be held by flesh alone.

I must be the air
You draw within You.
Taken into Your blood
and ardently trampled

into moans of light.

Night Gardens

2007-01-20T11:38:00.000Z

The night has rooms
of breath and presence.

There are gardens
where silence
is a nightingale.

There are alcoves
where we can pause
to be each other.

You lead me inwards
into a bud of twilight,
an enfolding
of our living-space.

Within my eyes
You wash
the ruby blossoms
of passion.

The Night Garden: Roberta Weir (C)

service.foliolink.com/Image.asp?ImageID=24404...

If You Let Me In

2007-01-19T15:29:00.000Z

If you let me in
I will push my soul
like the root of the sky
into you.

Geisha,
crone, street girl
only you
can pull me into
every door of desire.

I am a love-poem
You write
on a kimono of light.
A mystery told
through ancient eyes,
the white thigh
within your dark stockings.

Pull me into you
through the narrow
or the wide.

I will become
the shape
of any door
that is a threshold
of love.

Photo: Eolo Perfido

www.eoloperfido.com/portfolio_decadent.htm

Wrestling the Flame

2007-01-17T09:13:00.000Z

Why do we still struggle
like famished beasts together?
Why these striations of passion
this inner bruising
where Your thighs crush?

Sometimes I am a gender
so blended into desire
that male and female
become just one flower
we hold in our hands.

Your lion is in my skin and flesh.
This grappling with the void
spills over into saline prayers
that climb to heaven
as ravishing angels.

Endless Flight

2007-01-16T11:15:00.000Z

If I am out of myself

being one feather

in Your endless flight

we brush against each other

like the wind and the waves.

Then there is the

entering and becoming

when You and I

are the flying away

of everything

but the dazzle of astonishment.

You do not come to me

and I do not receive You.

This place where we meet

is tidal, like a lunar womb.

When a bud opens to the sun

that perfume

is the essence of One.

When lovers grasp

that inner kiss

only bliss speaks.

Sea Goddess - Acrylic Prints by Brandy Saturley

members.shaw.ca/solsugar/Orig.htm

Weaving

2007-01-15T08:56:00.000Z

We are together
like the satin whispers
of darkly reaching minds.
You are pregnant
with my life.

Hands have flown away
to become the erotic tales
of lesser gods.
We use a tactile water
that overflows into movement;
its soul and sensation
is Your body.

This dance we arrange
has rounded vowels
that journey into their own mouths.
A singing silence
moves sound around
like legs and arms.

We keep running to the
water fountain
to taste the pleasure
fluids have
when they seep out
of one form into another.

We are together
like the silken threads
of a woven starlight.
I am what You spin
into a web
of Your own passion.

Image (C) Bard Judith: Expectancy.

www.santharia.com/religions/jeyriall.htm

Demons of Bliss

2007-01-14T12:41:00.000Z

We talk in our sleep.
You dream
and I become
words in Your mouth.

Under the cover
of this night
that is our dark flowering
we share passions
that only demons of bliss
could ever imagine.

We throw away
every useless morality
to hear
each other speak
of love.

Passion by Rabi Khan
Link to print gallery-

www.art.com/.../_/pd--11769455/sp--A/Passion.htm

and

artfiles.art.com/images/-/Rabi-Khan/Passion-P...

My First

2007-01-14T11:38:00.000Z

We are an implication
something suggested
by the heaviness
of thought.

Then suddenly
You become
a swish of sensation.

Your hem lifts
and I am revealed
before Your eyes.

It is as if
the world
had never seen
smelled or touched
such a love.

You are my first.

Passion-Play

2007-01-13T10:49:00.000Z

Silence undresses
to become Your breath.
We mind-dance for a while-
some romance
on the rim of vision-
a little flirtation
with active volcanos.

This passion-play
is dangerous
ants and anteaters
hunt together like this.
Lions lick their
freshly killed hearts
like this.

Glass grinds under the sky
everything shatters
even blood and dreams.
You open a window
into a room where I am not
and You find me there.

She Paints Over Her Own Beauty

2007-01-12T09:04:00.000Z

She comes fully clothed
like snow painted
on deep blue.

Immediately
I am
much too heavy
for my heart to bear.

I jump out
of a green pool;
a seal remembering
drowning eyes.

But let me talk of before.
Of reflected images
in the sharp blade
of Her loveliness.

I recall
mounting a wild horse
all night and day
until She offered up
Her meadow to be flooded.

Now wherever
this bud of desire opens
She forms the fragrance.

She paints over Her own beauty.
While I have become only snow
falling into Her deep blue.

From A Trembling Branch

2007-01-10T16:02:00.000Z

Cupped hands under thirst.

I reach for You

from a trembling branch-

from an arched spine of prayers.

You have become the concealed sky

of a deep planting.

Everywhere there is succulence:

The interior mouth of silence and honey.

No one saw us disappear into each other.

No one saw spring-time

lift its green skirt up in anticipation

but we feel the damp thighs

of this want as it speaks

for our stunned hearts.

Prayers & Gloves

2007-01-10T11:23:00.000Z

I am curled around You
like a vine

but this sap we
drink from
has no name.

If I go out
into the world today
You will be gloves
for my thoughts.

You will be coated
with my breath
where nothing is seen
without breathing into it.

Later
I will take You home.

We shall
come together
inside a green fountain

with prayers and gloves
that are also hands.

Webs of Light

2007-01-09T10:41:00.000Z

We wash in the same water
a water that is not apart
from our eyes and ears
and the birth of waves.

We are a frenzy of light.
Movement choreographed
in the chaotic ecstasy
of struggle.

When one molecule of love trembles
connections form fresh tears
to string us together.
I do something with my tongue
that You have taught me
the night spreads open
to wets my lips.

We are a web of light
for limbs to spin
their blood and bones upon.
A drop of Essence
and a thousand flavours of love.

Where Hands Bloom

2007-01-08T10:22:00.000Z

Hands come together
as You fill that space between
with the heat of intimacy.

My nervous system
is a map of Your body;
a body unknown
until it is felt
in-between
a modeling fire.
Your light demands
to be fed.

You are a
yarn of longing
winding around my hands.
You make
a soul for me
where hands bloom.

robes fall apart

2007-01-07T10:32:00.000Z

I gasp and awake
feeling You turn over within me.

Robes fall apart
that were woven
with our blood and breath.

For a moment I am bereft
of my senses

only a howl of separation
slaps my head to the pillow.

I cover my heart
with a protecting palm.
I hear You whispering
out of my darkness:

Come bind Me quickly
to your flesh.
Let your hollow bones
be My voice

My life and love.

Trinity

2007-01-06T11:26:00.000Z

There are gaps
between our fingers
where we hold, not each other
but a lover
we are both faithful to.

This other beloved
looks like our passions
melted over snow.

Rose wine
has been spilt
and it has mingled
with tears
and the breathless gasps
of intimacy.

Our bodies
dream each other
and that dream weaving
has fashioned
a new form to illustrate love.

A persona
that could not
have been created
if we had been only content
with the dance of One.

For Me

2007-01-05T13:29:00.000Z

She paints Her image
over an infinite landscape
but not for me.

She sculptures light
into obelisks and pyramids
to reflect
an ageless beauty but
not for me.

For me
She enslaves Herself
to be a candle for my flame.

Whatever happens
will happen with us
together
in small bright ways.

Rooms

2007-01-05T10:28:00.000Z

You follow me through myself
from room to room.
I become
your living space.

Windows look inwards.
A folding intimacy
forms pillows and cushions
of presence.

This mingling cohabitation
makes its own rules
of perspective and design.
The ergonomics of One
can bend light
as well as form.

I hold Your hand
but my fingers slip away
to be You.
Like wind writing on water
movement is our love

our soul.

Shapes

2007-01-04T11:08:00.000Z

I am a tendon You flex
in the flesh of thought.
Where You lean over me
I become
Your smoothly muscled back.

Of course
You know about my hands
how they are always forming shapes
to hold You
How my mouth
has become
a place for You to dance.

When You move
You turn under me
like satin sheets,
or the suave sleek music
of falling silk .

And did You know
that whenever I speak like this
I know now who
moves these words around?

Rose

2007-01-03T12:34:00.000Z

Night-doves drive light before them like gauchos.
I breathe through my heart with Your lips
and a hundred fingers dance with flavor.
There is mercy in all that glimmers
a glamour in the dark moist falling apart
of musk and wine.
I bathe where we meet in this rose of passion.
You are cupped like a mouth,
a tangible palpation
of Your longing to be known.
I am the drunken prayer of a wild gaucho
driven by the light
of a softly darkling dove
to the chasm of Your tavern.

Her Milk and Honey

2007-01-02T13:47:00.000Z

I wake up
in the curl of the night
pushing your breasts into my emptiness.
Buttery lips kiss rosebuds-
my mind blooms red in Your heart.

Sometimes I travel
like unaccompanied luggage
to that hinterland
where Your hands can collect me.

At other times I curl up
in the foetal dampness
of this need
and beg for nipples
to feed my darkness.

Stretching Muscles of Light

2007-01-02T13:10:00.000Z

You feel a sexual shiver-

an abrasion of shock and delight

as your mind pulls your spine

up into vision like a rainbow.

You have just stretched a muscle of light

and like the arc of a waterfall

you can fly measurelessly

into stillness.

You can reach inwards now

to touch the purple flower,

the trembling stigma

of the Goddess

or you can plunge

like a spear of ecstasy

through the roof

of your heart.

crone

2007-01-01T12:33:00.000Z

The light is sewing night-gowns for the twilight
It is weaving threads of nakedness together
and now my words
must be shot through with light.
My truth punctured by the unknown,
a radiance of thought beyond thought.
O Holy Night
bringer of comfort and pain
kiss me deep
where my soul can shed
seeds of newness.
For I have been a broken tooth of desire
but my pelt is pliable and whole.
Let the beautiful crone of love
anoint my substance with
new wisdom
for tomorrow's original dawn
shall come begging soon
at my door.

Black Madonna

2006-12-30T07:57:00.000Z

Night wings over night tides.

A gloss and sheen

of an inner radiance

much deeper than dark.

She is the world
behind the seen
yet She is seen behind
the world.

The Black Madonna
is soaring
and Her feathered silence
will deafen all memory
of what has been.

She lifts you
into a shinning darkness
up up up
until you are
Her starry vision.

She is the Mother of Radiance.
You are taken
and before you can
laugh or cry
you have forgotten
how to be anything
but Her dark ascencion
Her bright becoming.

flight

2006-12-29T14:06:00.000Z

I am ice,

a meteoric darkness

and starry wisp of soul

slipping in and out

of Your holy fire
but when I turn
my sky to You
I am just flight-
your phoenix
of the moment.

We Share The Same Space

2006-12-29T12:03:00.000Z

We have finally stopped travelling around each other.

Your wings are a starry flight

of my mind.

My hands are Your thoughts

proof of Your exsistence.

Who shall I pray to?

I can only speak in
in the graceful howls
of all uttering circles.

I am an apartment

for Your soul.

We share the same space.

These eyes I use

are ink wells for Your poems.

Each morning

I wake up

and turn towards You.

I breathe-in

and You come out

of my heart
as Our dearest reality.

Days After

2006-12-28T11:39:00.000Z

You come out of my nowhere
fully dressed.

For days after
I am stunned
by a form
I cannot remember.

A fish does not know
it is wet.
I have no idea
I am drowned.

I stumble after a memory.
It is not You or I.
It is a blood-red flower
that only appears

when lips are crushed

into appearance.

Mirror

2006-12-26T15:19:00.000Z

You are the dawn in my eyes.
My souls foraging.
The roaring waterfall
of my body.

You are a daylight visitation
of our awakened heart.
I am dug out of You
and hollowed into presence.

Sometimes I touch that light
that is Your desire to be me
and I fall from
our identical image
like a shadow.

Dancing

2006-12-25T13:58:00.000Z

We crash through the night
Nothing survives but our hands
which fall upwards
like rain and sky.

I find you
in the grasping
enclosing Your desire
as if it were
an orchid
succulent with light.

You give my hands
a vision
and they plunder
their own sensations
feeling You
dancing naked there.

Keltry - dancing naked by *josemanchado

Seeds

2006-12-22T10:13:00.000Z

Every cell bursts into prayer.
All my little birds are howling.
Nerve endings are mouths for kisses.

Hunting in the dark we pull apart light.
You sit down in me.
You use these upturned hands
to overturn bowls of desire.

I am an nzyme
in Your chemical reaction.
We need this fusion
this dissolving.
Without a raw co-dependence
vision and feeling cannot merge.

When a plane dives into the ground
the earth buries it.
The force of the crash pulls off the wings
the fuselage splits open
people spill out already dead.

When passion crashes
the blood continues to dance.
We spill out
as ghosts of bliss
and seeds of lust.

Her Fingers Shape My Voice

2006-12-21T15:30:00.000Z

Dogs bring us wounds to lick.
You eat from my fingers
to taste Your blood.

Because I am darkly shaped
like a guitar
You keep Your hands
around my neck;
when they move – I speak.

In the Opening
You shape my voice
as Your mouth.
There is a body here
but it is inward like a bud.
If I place a finger
into the unseen
moans become visible.

Love gazes back into itself.
When I push into You
You open my hips
like a door.
My hinges are all broken
since I became Your secret.

Image: Woman with a Blue Guitar.

Sam Yeates.

www.davisgalleryaustin.com/yeates_left_3.html

Bridal Chamber

2006-12-20T15:34:00.000Z

No one sees us
they are too busy
being our eyes and hands.

I place my cheek
upon Your presence.
Hips become lips.
I am formed in the flow of You.
You couch and dimple
for my being.

I want to take You into my tepee.
I want You to chew my moccasins
while I adore You.
It is a cold night
and we must be marrow
for long lived bones.
I will not disturb Your hair
with wild dreams.
I will grow seasons in You.

I will rest like a warm pillow
between Your legs.
Just as You rest like a dove
between mine.

Tangled

2006-12-20T11:36:00.000Z

The Beloved is wide open
wrists tied, hips hoisted up
into my deep breath.
Touchstones change what touch them.
I am water running over Her lava.
Ghost-forms melt in hot butter
desires kiss themselves.
We dance, not together
but as flames do
pouring out of the same presence.
Speaking from
the same yearning mouth.

Tangled into intimacy.

orgy

2006-12-20T11:12:00.000Z

Are we many?
I want many, many lovers in You.
Every possible combination.
Make a coven of my heart.
A sacred orgy of this love-spell.

Are we two or single?
I want to drag You away
into that deep flower of our one soul.
To keep You under me there
for our rebirth together-
our marriage in the same womb.

You are above my hands now,
a ravishing darkness
impaled upon a throb of joy.
And there is no one here
but this Opening.

shock-wave

2006-12-20T09:48:00.000Z

I am a car wreck
happening on a ghost road.
The wetness of nocturnal flowers.
My legs are fountains.
for the visions of my tongue.

What lamb bleats in the blood
to be sacrificed to Your beauty?
Why does my spine
breathe fire like a dragon?

I am Your secret.
What we do together
no one should talk of.
I am a shock-wave.
I will learn to speak
the deep water language
of annihilation
one tsunami at a time.

Taken

2006-12-19T08:53:00.000Z

Blind roots awaken
and look for buds.

I am an earthworm
a serpent of mud.
I dare not go out
I am a werewolf eating the sky.

How do you want me?
Shall I stand just so?
Shall I lay down?
Shall I rub myself against You
like a cat?

Please don’t look at these words
they are raw with hunger.

O You just did me!

I look out now
seeing nothing but blood
licking itself.

She Opens in Me

2006-12-18T09:57:00.000Z

We are mouth to mouth
like an oral tradition of desire.
You part your flesh
creating clefts and hollows
for prayers.

My hands are full of you
I keep wanting to kiss them.
I bear you like a pregnant woman.

I am a place where lips part .
Your blood is moist in my soul
where the carnage of revelation
speaks.

In Your flesh
I have a body,
a spiral shell of thirst
in that isthmus and delta
I am consumed.

Looking at You

2006-12-17T09:06:00.000Z

I keep looking at You
and that focus is everywhere.
I am Your lust to be revealed.
I would be dry cinders
if Your fire were not so sexual.

I want You for myself alone.
I am turning into green energy
the impulsion that shatters buds
into suns for just one instant.

Living and dying is easy
making love to Your absence
is the miracle here.
My religion is
a shattering emptiness.

Her Broken Flower Prayer

2006-12-16T09:54:00.000Z

Like the poppy

I need Her rough handling,

my heart is red for flights.

Words run away naked

and windblown

not to seed any theory

but to scatter all thought.

I am a bloodstained silence.

I am a burst open

flower of the formless.

In such moments

one bloom falling apart

will destroy any religion

except love.

sipping absence

2006-12-15T11:08:00.000Z

I am inside Your love
like grape essence and saliva.
I wash my face in this lust
drunk on the scent of wild flowers.

I am an empty glass
for Your fullness.
Where you find me sipping the void
You pour me out like red wine.
You want me as Your taste.
You are a beautiful word
You have scratched upon my blood.

I have become both genders:
A blind passion
that must push down and enter
the bud and root of another sky.
My hands grasp sky-bones
they are leaping fish
for Your sensual ocean.

I know beyond doubt
that I am far too crazy
to be anything
but Your every desire.

Speak Your Thundering Mind into My Heart

2006-12-12T12:12:00.000Z

Tell me
how you want me?
You may walk over me
with my own feet.
Show me
what position to assume.
What shadows to cast.
This love affair just got serious
but I smile because You use me.
Will I be the lion or the lamb?
My legs girders of passion
or stems for Your flowers?
Tell me how to please You.
I cannot do this on my own.
This ravishing
must be a shared surrender.
I promise to die for You
just give me Your Soul.
Speak Your thundering Mind
into my heart.

where your light is born

2006-12-10T15:08:00.000Z

I need to speak a thing,

something that

cannot be hammered into a word

smaller than the night.

I see a terrible beauty

in the begging bowls of flowers.

My hands are pages torn

from Your life.

I am scribbled over

with an aching clarity.

Your shining darkness

blooms red on my lips

like a kiss from absence.

Submerged by Light

2006-12-10T12:23:00.000Z

I am submerged by light,
lips moving
to speak like the sea.

There is a real boat
but no one is in it.
Imploring hands
disappear unseen.
This is the way
water drowns.

There are a few words left
swimming like rats
in a circle.
The Goddess
does not rescue them.

Her love is greater

than any speaking circle.

She Comes To You Half-Dressed like Your Hands

2006-12-10T07:12:00.000Z

When Your fingertips
become pure devotion
She will come to you half-dressed
like hands for your thoughts.

Nothing prepares you
for that deep touch.
Your skin suddenly knows
it can see and hear the light.

The sensation is not felt
it is feeling.

You are a prairie flower
eating the sun
to become starlight.

For The One Eye

2006-11-28T19:32:00.000Z

If You were to look sideways
at another
I would be devastated.
I know You are as jealous as I.

When my teeth chatter in the cold
You are a warm tongue
for my words.
If You see me angry
You leap to be my anger.

We look steadily

watching out for

dissolving of focus.

We share that explicit
appreciative look

like a beauty spot

for the one eye.

circles

2006-11-26T18:18:00.000Z

Last night
I was burning
burning
burning.

I thought I would
never get to sleep,
never wake up.

Red lips
pulled apart
red mouths
to form circles.

Eventually, I fell
as thin as smoke
into one of those
openings.

You kept
breathing into me
glowing me
in and out.

I burned there
until the dawn
circled my
tapering life
with its round
full womb of light.

modeling

2006-11-23T14:36:00.000Z

It is always
in some dark fold
where I am slight
enough to see You.

There is
a wrinkle of night
where touch
turns from thought to
the fleshed ghosts
of sensation.

I reach into
the pleats and gathers
of obscurity-

into that curvature
that models itself
on an inwardness
behind its lips.

blooms

2006-11-22T17:00:00.000Z

Hands and breath embrace You

in that desperate and gentle way

flowers cup the sky.

You are above and below me

like the sun in water.

You whose body I wear

like a memento

You who are blood-soaked

by my wound.

I am sap in the stem.

I am urgent

compelled into passion

into that crimson cup

you offer

all Your dark flowers.

Rose

2006-11-16T16:51:00.000Z

You drape your neck
over my rim of care.
I feel the pulse
of Your vulnerability
Your creamy exposure
that intimacy
You keep folded within
like a rose.
A secret to be opened
with the broken hands
of desire
when fingers bloom.

She Came

2006-11-16T15:55:00.000Z

I pushed my torso
up into Her rain clouds.

Invisible wings
beat against my heart.

I smothered to be felt.
I made the earth cry.
Flesh sang
as it forgot its weight

bodies danced and dissipated
into a truth
that would not say its name.

her familiar image

2006-09-10T09:34:00.000+01:00

She is familiar
like a distant image of yourself.
You look back
through a relationship
that began in Her eyes.

She appears
as a mirror of all the people
you have managed to avoid.

She becomes more familiar
the more you make love to Her.
You have less and less to say
while Her hand writes you.

Painting: By the Water by Lauren Perkins

www.laurenperkins.com.au/.../bythewatersmall.jpg

a call to prayer

2006-09-02T11:32:00.000+01:00

I am in You like salt.
A sea anemone
feels itself like this
touching the water
as a tendril dance
of the wave.

A synapse
remembers to whom it speaks.
Familiarity with the placeless
leads to ripples of location.

There are no strangers
only the strangeness of words
the way we pronounce
these endless sounds of love.

a saving grace

2006-09-02T10:51:00.000+01:00

I am fed through the night
as a momentum of clouds

The Goddess
has smuggled me here
under Her own veils.

I am recollected
like sand passed through sifting waves
each separate grain
becomes one tidal-pull.

There are steps over water.
A gauche fumbling.
I am a romance.
A castaway
to be rescued one day at a time.

tumbledown light

2006-09-01T09:24:00.000+01:00

We tossed and turned
the surf of nearness
too close to a far shore.

Seagulls screamed
to be fed
Otters rolled sensuously.

The Goddess
cracked open Her mirror.
I fell out of myself
to be Her moonlight.

I did not dance a step
but was buried and hatched
in a tumbledown sky.

She took Her time with me.
I took a long breath
under that place
where love paints its face.

flower prayers

2006-08-31T10:17:00.000+01:00

A dance
in the anti-chamber of dawn.
Goddess and man:
A two handed finger-painting
of one image.

Sexual encounters
between deities
are too deep to appear.
The bloom moves beyond the flower.

Darkness melts its face.
Each step taken now
is a precipice

but that is how love moves,
it becomes its own edge.

It must fall further
than the sky can reach.

explorations

2006-08-30T10:27:00.000+01:00

I invite myself into Her body.
Places where
She is the breathing reality
of every sensation.

She samples my living space
as if it were She
that had moved into me.
We accommodate each other
selecting habitats
and communes of desire.

We enjoy garments of distinction
even as they fall away
from this solitary flame
that can explore
its own light.

she is inside every bud

2006-08-29T17:03:00.000+01:00

Inside of every bud
there is a momentary God.

There are arrangements
of mud and rain called being
(light always comes
from a deep womb of pain).

Inside of every latch
there is a splintered threshold
a shrapnel of ecstasy
we may later call: Love.

The Goddess
molds you
into a cup for the sky
knowing you will shatter
from the pressure
of all that nothingness.

Even your torn remains-
your smithereens of passion
can still be a vision
of imminent birth.

a refining fire

2006-08-26T09:16:00.000+01:00

The Goddess is with child.
A labour of love
squeezed through the churning pores
of transformation.

Once more I am dust
for the grinding wheels of light.
An inferno birthed into
a body of flame
too small for its intensity.

I am an opening unwilling to be fed
by anything but passion.

I walk upright into the day
but behind the industry of being
Her whirling alchemy
shatters another crucible
as it manifests
darkness into flowers,
blood into radiance.

Diva

2006-08-25T17:18:00.000+01:00

Her intonations are everywhere
like visible birdsong.

We are all out foraging
for this drenching sound
seeking Her clear expression.

Birds do not sing arias
they keep repeating a simple tune.
The repertoire of the heart is two beats
but it hammers together every life.

The Goddess is a Diva.
She knows we are all listening
in the right places
with the wrong ears.
Her voice is hidden in
every speech.

Like fledglings of love
we need but open our mouths
to pronounce Her name.

she is your dance

2006-08-25T10:56:00.000+01:00

She is your being
the way a silk moth is a shirt.
She is your body
the way sap is a forest.
The more you cover yourself
the deeper She is.

You are Her love affair.
Though you say you cannot dance
She waltzes with every atom of you.
Though you say you have no belief
She moves your tongue
like the sea moves an anemone.

It is best to be silent,
to let Her have Her way with you
then you can be the bliss
that looks through Her eyes.