the rise of you again [poem]

a new old light in my smile

why

was it the kiss of the man I was meant to

be with

who I kissed almost first, and who I’d love to 

kiss last

the strangeness in our mouths, a welcome home to

our bodies

perhaps it’s when we stop performing proving and decide 

on settling

into the sweetness of a human life, without pushing back at who

we were

all along he was him leaning into life his way, and still there is so much

I don’t know

and there was I was, over there, and there, and there, and here, and there, never 

stopping long 

and maybe now I hear a gentle letting go in knowing not all this life can or should be lived in

this moment

it’s perfect to accept what is, what isn’t, what comes, and what must go because not every little thing

can be

what would I sacrifice, asked the wanderer to me, for the chance to let love be sewn onto my soul for a long while

everything

I know as I let it rest, which isn’t really rest at all because in this mind and life of no casual affair at all, I cannot let it rest when

it must be

I know that my heart my body and my spirit longs for a long adventure into quiet expectations giving and receiving for once without demand

lay with me

a while upon this frozen earth under those red oaks and beech holding onto leaves beside a small hemlock poking through the pines near the flowing river

and let us see

what comes in this life wherein we’ve circled round each other time and time and time again never ever saying goodbye with fire in our eyes and anger in our bones

because love is

and kindness comes and comes, continues to come and ravage my soul as it always does yours and fingernails on flesh and mouths on necks and breasts in your hands and mine

being held by you

is the most

exciting 

thing

I

know

yes to that man, i said [poem]

soft, the marvel of love, too soft
but hard is the copybook of reason

if I may have one for my body
it should be a soft lover, one willing to
rub rub rub the soles of my feet
couldn’t have a life of hard scraping tries from a man who
doesn’t know quite how to love a woman

but better yet, a man of both
a lover of rhyme and reason
i’ll rub my own, he’ll build me a home
using feathers, warm wax, and gloves
to soften the blows of his natural way
of love

yes, i’m in, my love

(hafiz)
oh thou who are trying to learn
the marvel of love
through the copybook of reason
i am very much afraid
you will never see the point

you sexy crescent moon [poem]

you hook me with your tip
as i’m driven under you and inside
madness, taxi, tuk tuks, Delhi

you do not hide
from faces of women in dupattas, men in turbans, cows dawdling
dead on the roadside

look into me, you sexy crescent moon
low, gazing wildy, heart and hara, hot and pricked
just above sugarcane fields forever

are you waxing, are you waning? will you fade or light me up?
i’ll worship and adore you, you sexy crescent moon
feed me, guide me, suck me up

i lie on my side, see you resting, glowing, offering sight to me
bronze face tilts to the heavens, round pout
we’re purple in our humanness

beloved effortlessly seduces his lover, who loves to give herself to him
…cosmic and only time will tell…

i rise in your darkness, offer you my light
round and round and round and round
you sexy crescent moon

first night in india, taxi delhi to rishikesh // march 2014, refurb november 2020

Holi, part three [poem]

fuuuuuuuck you, spirit speaker
the mind turned off you say, and still
bedroom photo wall with you and Ferrari and female form and framed
achievement from European schools
next to Buddha, and boddhisatva
        do you see?
        do you see the what the fuck, the #horriblebeautyofitall?
your mother, your wife
caring for me as I craved to care for you
judging me, curious, cynical with pity, and seeing

my son cried after eating soap in your shower
as I rinsed green paint from my hair
head back in the cool water stream
bliss came for a moment, in the scream

i wonder if your wife poisoned me
in stress, and surrender, i soften my already lightening hands
hand over my child to your queen
just as I gave my heart to you, with longing, loss, and
a silent plea for help

there you are dancing, drinking, again,
with the salon curtains closed
        you prance into the parlor
        showing me your smile, I smile
        your skin, barney purple paint on brown
your wife, laughs in her ownership
your mother, hands you a shirt

the hours pass, I sleep beneath photos of your father
your grandfather, next to my son, with neither
you sleep in a walk-in closet
is this the norm, for you, for us, I dream, we wake

you sit in a circle of men, cousins
these men eating sugar, drinking chai
talking of choosing a wife for the youngest god amongst you

        isn’t that just too sweet…
        you joke, should we choose a wife for your son
        why not? I laugh. Can you hear my hatred
        and jealousy within this idea?

bearing uncomfort no longer
feeling alone in india for the first time
here, many months of settling, rising
strong, I flee drooling son on my knee, rooftop offers space to breathe

        empath, i am breathing
        neon parakeets in trees
        pigeons on the pillar, a pair
        i watch them mate for the first time
        so open, fast
        then pause for two minutes alone to fluff feathers
        take care of themselves, become bigger

I retreat and again busy my time with your wife
your friends new wife, pregnant, covers her face
when you walk in the room
you, patriarch, who lost your wallet in your celebrations
and left me hanging with the women, behind the curtain

        I ask to leave, immediately you find your keys
        perhaps also seeing a way out, or finally seeing me out
        comfort in the exit, alone at my side

I have that repeating thought from days long since known to me
’ll never fit in, ever, maybe never, here, maybe nowhere
Numb and silent, and still there is relief

On the back of your bike, my son sandwiched between our pelvises
Feverish head under curls, his hat and shoes lost on this day
You search for speech, more seconds with me
        I pass up the doctor, the diapers
        Your hint at dinner
        Too much, all too much, I’ve had enough

past the laxmi temple, you swerve
near the shiva temple, you stop outside our home

whiskey in your eyes, I try to meet you, but cannot
you look at my son, unable to meet me, i cannot

        love you, and still
        i see myself stronger in solidarity
        knowing that you, gurujj
        are also not enlightened as much
        no, moreso not, than me

I hold my son and turn my back and walk away

       i’m in the home you gave to me

a man with a grill beside a colorado creek [poem]

his eyes amber green orange and yellow
his mouth soft and brown
so shiny as he spoke to me from behind a grill
El Salvadorian golden teeth, german nose
hooked with a mole on the right, a mirror to mine

speaking hot and dry along the colorado creek
telling me of magic, he’s painting us a story
of a gardener, our age, was cursed with visions, feelings and sensations
of burning, like flames, on his handsome skin

for 30 days, he willed the gods to save him
sat under a waterfall, pounding in his mind, begging of the water
to offer daggers of protection, kill and shield the noise
bring peace silence stillness—a life in the mundane
freedom from the chains of knowing

it’s been 16 years of quiet from the fire in his mind

        but never, ever, in his sleep
        each night he opens a door
        to the purple blue light sky
        elders circle boom of energy, no form
        three hundred of them welcome friends at the fire

eyes open in our morning world, unconcious, hard, and dense
        in spaces of our own
        we try to touch

i ask him if he asks them things
        my ego want to know
doesn’t he a responsibility to tell me

        did he go back to sleep?