Saturday, October 23

Until Next Time

Its kind of, well, its some kind of beauty really.
That ultimately there's a deepening of this knowing self. Of dreams. 
Of not climbing into that self-carved, bottomless grave.
Of finding Zen, and practicing yet again.
Its of knowing self worth and holding it up to the eternal sky.
Its seeing that freckle reflected back in a hazel eye.

She's contemplating various states of aversion and clinging 
yet still
she's searching for a middle way.

Free, like that night creature silently hunting up above.  
Though still warm and pulsating from those star-filled, new moon nights, 
ambitious now
she's releasing love's heart.
And now those nights are fading into full moon mists above mountains mornings, like these.
She's aiming higher
and higher
and higher
like a balloon full of hot air
she's studying buoyancy
and yes
she's rising.

But for now
she's aiming for

Sensing a internal yearning now to be filled
she's learning to fill that open
with her own discovered breath.
In and out. Simple. In and out. Warm and penetrating, like drops of dew
like moaning. 
Like open
she's open.

Sitting on top granite and vanilla pine,
she leans her warm, pulsating body into the changing seasons of time

              Si g hh hhhhhhhhh

She longs to be filled deep in those crevices of that broken open sigh. Between the G's and H's and the I's. She longs for the gray to grace the stretches of her mind. 

She sits to become completely full of this inside.

Inside this body


Inside this mind

Sunday, October 17

...and with each in breath

(those nights
where the sky is sexy
filled with dusk
and superimposed heavenly light
those autumn nights of setting flames of radiance in the sky
makes me hot
yea, it makes me hot for sleep
for dreams
lucidity and illusion
for love
and life
it makes me hot for myself
and that timeless connection between me
and the high desert new mexico sky)

Wednesday, October 6

Polkadot Landscapes

wet skin
resting ever so gently against darkened damp grass and unethical gravel
scatters briefly
from the encounter
only to return

silent drips from the responsive rain
infusing sage and womenfolk's stories
like the moon
like me to you

coiled stone snakes
wrapped around these wrists
from Seattle my love.
While Poland stands along the fading lines of Chamisa's autumn bloom

not real.
not real.
not real in real time

what is it about Earth's reds and oranges touching New Mexico's endless sky that brings life to this surface?

Tuesday, October 5

Sunday, October 3

Answers in the Milky Way

someone said this time is about experiencing pain
sounds like zen
sounds like running

to where?
back to the recoil?
back to the lack?
back to what?

what about penetrating the complicated connections and dependencies
in here?
still full of disappointment
but still
she's standing on the vacant street corner of fruitful desire

what are you here to take of?
not him
not me

fuck it
i'm going outside to watch the milky way

coming home to myself
wanting to back away from all i know
all who know me
but feeling distance here breaks this heart

i wonder what becomes of severed limbs and scar tissue...