Sunlight lifted with Her golden fingers


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Hae.mi, as the golden sun interlopes
With the falling snowflakes, I see the destiny
Of how to trust the universe
It’s a woman who teaches, it’s a man who obeys

Like a lullaby of sweetly flowing years
“Trust the universe”
“You will be happy”
The nations can rage on, I do not care

Friends and lovers are free
To call my bluff, I enjoy the calm
Of solitude, the way the harmless hours
Merge into the sea of experience

Hae.mi, we do not need much love to survive
Only one drop of truth in our hearts
To believe that anything is possible
When the sun is low, and I am a colored singer

Who can hear the charm of the soul
It does not matter if I am simple, poor, barren
The world is wide, it extends to all people
I am a servant of the universe

With or without my consent, I pray at the chapple
Of her designs, and my tears are pure gratitude
There’s nothing left when memories burn away
Only beauty, only the inquiring mind

Of one for the many, of light for its unity
Of darkness, for the bird islands of life
You are as much alive as you dance in my cells
There’s no need to possess, when bliss is a substitute

In the meditation of our lives, art reassures us
That our suffering has spiritual meaning
The same mist hangs, as in ancient times
Your human eyes, pieces all that I am
To see divinity in a human form, is its own reward.

Angels in Water


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Climbing clouds down to their source
I stumbled into Hae.mi in the Himalayas
She winked at me before we got to the tip

Of the Asian pacific rim of trust
It didn’t take long to know her wetness
The liquid laugh and sighs of freedom

Discovery was not what it once was
But the breezy evening of everything together
The density and timing of our moving lives

That pulls the knots out of their ruts
As warmth spills in-between the skin
That are the neurotransmitters of our insight

The weaving of consciousness and body’s self
And genes that got us this far, instinct
Where the azure brilliance of thirst no longer
Obeying the salt of hope, but thunder
And an inkling for lightning in the pools

Where mothers of pearl are in our blood
And our lips are the roots of talking and energy
That we pass around like stories of how to float
In an ocean of so much beauty, we sometimes forget
How and why we met, thousands of years ago

And why familiarity never dulled, how we moved
Together underwater, properly, in airy fields of dream.

A Woman’s World


 

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To fight alone Is not brave
It’s suicidal, the Calvary is a family
Success is empty when not shared
The heart is not a solitary thing
The kingdom needs a female ruler

A smile suffused with creation
A bliss larger than heaven
A womb whose content is hope

No, to live alone is not healthy
To hide in the virtual worlds
We all require the skin on skin
Of happiness, the fruit of labor
The ripeness of summer

Success is not devoid of love or grace
It is for relationships that we conquer
The value is always in giving

I have a missing friend in my heart
Who taught me the joy of service
Fighting is for the tribe, not the individual
A harmony of identity diffused
In a higher aim, in a greater glory

Accessible like an inherited thrill
Or a gene that shines for everything
The dopamine of a better world.

Solace in the Sun


Sunflower

 

 

 

I received an envelope from the universe

It had your stamp in it, a sun within a cheek

Of the heart I never knew existed

And I wanted to please you like a burning star

 

But I could not reach you across

Distances or time, across the climes

Of fate and heights and wonderment

I woke to find my life had bled

 

Uncertainty and too much cowardice

I opened up the letter from my soul

To find my body had died long ago

And I knew you by your energy

 

I didn’t require eyes or breath or a brain

To know that somewhere our flames had mingled

Light with light, a hand with a hand

A home that never had a family to call my own

 

I was abandoned, brittle, and deformed

But I knew you existed, and that was a weird solace.

 

The Butterfly Card


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The Butterfly Card

Eun Ji, I got the butterfly card

The Korean swimming in my mind

From watching too many romantic-comedies

Made in Korean, it makes me weary

Of how uncivilized and hungry I have become

How strange to be a poet

That I marvel most at happiness

At my most bitter hour

Like the divine sense with an appetite

For the most human hours

Pale stones of savage harvests

South American aromas and Taiwanese fragrances

The dancing burden of the dream of time

And how we lose a skin each summer

Only to climb into words once more.

Whatever happens with us


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The Eros in Altruism

Whatever happens with us
Would it be a mistaken point in my brain
That is aroused by your intelligence?
Could you forgive the delicacy

Of my predicament that searches
For memories of you in foreign faces
Your strong tongue that reaches
Into the everywhere of me?

Whatever happens between us
Don’t take it the wrong way
If I imagine blooming in the
Rose-wet cave of our happiness

How your love for travel might end up
In the innocent wisdom of our love-making
Reaching where I had been waiting
For years for you, half-curled in wonder

Whatever happens with us
In the seduction of a thousand moments
Of mistaken identity, mixed karma
Primitive needs washed by the suns

Firm protective bathing in soul-stuff
Would it be mistaken alliance
Of oxytocin to be melted in your mouth
Your mouth of too much kindness

Your body of too much giving
Your breasts that are mother and friend
To this lonely world, I should not be aroused.

Touch Was Here  #erotic #amwriting #poem #micropoetry


 

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Touch Was Here 

I like your body when it is with my
Body, it is certain to be pleased
Not just sensually, but spiritually

It is quite a lesson to lie like this
With bread crumbs for big eyes
And spring for firm-smooth skin

And trembling gold of Taiwanese fragrance
The ocean parting in your flesh
And a thrill of being like a virgin again
Without orgasms, not in it for cheap howls
But the lust of a more tender unity

Not lust, more like magic butter caressing
Like oxytocin on steroids, feeling
It’s killing time with a stranger

And finding a soul-mate in the crowd
Taking them to bet to part those sheets
Like holy waters of our love
And we pray together in the heat
Like a born again believer

And in the healing of eroticism
We find a basic means of self-knowledge
Where a clitoris is as indispensable as poetry
And silence is preferable when our bodies talk.

To love is so startling


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To love is so startling it leaves very little time for anything else

How strange the signs that led me to you
And you who, did not make a sign

Not unlike nature’s own
Who does not knock, and does not intrude

Whatever is most sweet
Will it come again, or
Never coming again
Make the memory of you more pure?

But memory and signs
And not my estate
Nor are you obliged to recognize
What comes so naturally to my view

I’m a nobody, who are you?
Fame is fickle, human love is
Initial, but not constant
So how shall I cleave to

A reincarnating muse
Whose success is not in the taking
Whose fortune is only
In the miraculous giving

I who don’t have such
A big heart to give, or courage
To try and love yet again.

Soul Writers


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Soul Writers

The soul is shared memory
Whatever our souls are made
What if theirs and mine were the same?

I have worked in silence and obscurity

For as long as I can remember
Let my efforts be known by their results
And dreams that filter through
Each and every day, still

What if her soul and mine
Shared a degree of faithfulness to art
Having levelled my palace of love
Would she recognize my similarity?

Whose to say if heaven’s glories
Could shine in us, our spirits whose
Work is one and the same
To share a life takes patience
Would she condescend to give up pride?

Author’s Note:

I always wanted to have a close friendship with a writer. To this day it’s something I look for but hasn’t occured to me spontaneously. Somebody that shares the same passion for literature, quotes and the written word. It would be like our own version of soul mates…

On the truth in gossip


57

listen to the stories women
tell other women, O’
I miss my women friends
who would talk a history in a needle
listen to a name, gossip a little
that sound of other places
with a foreign taste
the ripeness of a voice
made vulnerable and accessible
I am no longer a hunter of women
I have only empathy left
In my bones, in my half-smile
You can only live and learn
In this world, there is no disgrace
That lasts forever, only heartbreak
That is extremely normal
So don’t fret, the falling seas
The falling snow, we’ve seen it all before
Listen to the stories of women
To the wisdom passed down
On hearing a name long unspoken
Take a guess as to why you hear it now
Our cries echo in unique ways
And our voice reaches the heart
At the appointed time, maybe
Centuries later, our love is recognized.

I Seal Your Sex


1

My day exploded in your night
And my letters came to life
In your bed, all the poems
In my heart took shape their
In the undressing of our lives

Silently we approached
The hour of the Goddess
And all my dreams
Of platinum literature
Took root in the tree of your womb

I open the lips of your night
Without speaking, but with
A lifetime of poetry carried
In my soul, like golden grapes
I give to you the shadows of the moon

The whiteness of infinity
Your rose burns through the snow
Your flesh dangerously close
To the dawn, and we repeat
The cycle eternally

Male and female, active and passive
Lovingly with all the sleep
And literature and art in our bones.

We are most happen when


A Self-Help poem series

47

The giver receives
The selfish miser is miserable
It’s an easy thing to observe
Sacrifice for others and notice

If this enables you to think
More about the world
And less about yourself?
There are others less fortunate

Than you, the seed cannot
Know what will happen
Without water and sunlight
To focus on the self is to isolate

Oneself from the energy of life
Life is a relationship with itself
There are no actual boundaries
You create them, by distinction

By not sharing your life with others
Self isolation is one of the problems
Of individualistic societies, we pretend
We are strong, but people aren’t

By nature strong, we are tender
We were made for partnership, family
Clan, community, society, cooperatives
Fraternity, exhibition, theater, lovers

Nurturing others enables the energy
To circulate, like blood or light
Do not live a frozen life
Do not waste your time in selfishness

Or attempting to profit
For when we are alone
We are conditioned to think of scarcity
And when we are together we

Happen to muse about plenitude
So what does that mean?

During our Love Festivals Lasted Longer


7

It’s High Holidays now
Between us, fate intervened
That’s an ideal Religion

It’s love of course, with friendship
I’ll blow the Ram’s horn
And you can tell me it’s Spring

Emotions for close combat
And this army of happiness
Machines are really missing out

No hiding back in function and task
It’s High Holidays here
Asleep in our spiritual biology

But not alone, there’s no duty in love
It’s all service for one cause
And Beloved mystery for the same

Unity of eternal heart burning red
And the words here are never bitter
Jerusalem is where the heart is.

8

Photo Courtesy:
1. http://www.deviantart.com/art/In-the-fall-481647459
2. https://www.facebook.com/SilviaTraviesoPhotography/photos/a.10152225989444734.1073741830.253380864733/10152880482654734/?type=1&theater

I hung many shinny things on us


There is no remedy for love but to love more.
~ Henry David Thoreau

Photo Credits: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Railway-473032196

83

i

Love is like a foreign language
once you hear it, you want to hear it more
speak it without it sounding alien
though she will behave here

as in a schoolbook for a foreign language
where we are all beginners
all sometimes say dirty words

ii

Without meaning to, she reaps
She sleeps, she washes, she softens
to its touch because it was made for her
like attachment, and for him like pleasure

love has no vowels, no translations, no silence
only a universal physicality and spirituality
that makes you have no defenses, you

iii

Trying not to love doesn’t bring you anywhere
it’s creative to let her use you
she is the last refugee and the first politics
she comes back in the evening when

your world is torn upside down with bills
it’s love that cooks for you darling
she whispers to you, “I’m taking you home”.

To the lovely couple


I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times…
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,
That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
~ Rabindranath Tagore

77

During our love, houses were completed
spiritual homes where you
rebuilt my foundations

idealistic comforts that
somehow I had forgotten
among the gardens, listing
the essential spiritual pleasure
that had no country to root for

but accepted all beings
During our love, we felt
a peace where we were completed

finally, irrevocably, whole
as if lost forever previously
our touch was that mutual
sensation of shared mysticism
the chime of fortitude

and unity so foreign to our
previous human experience
you and I were still like

strange visions to behold
universal love, at just
the right temperature.

We, Who are in the Blood


57

Oh, dear wife, you are too much
Mine and flesh of me –
There is no dawn

To keep your water
From my blood, I am unceasing intimacy
Oh, unvisioned loving face

There is no dusk that does not signal
Your baffling comfort of caress
Oh, you are the loss of all

Accomplished things, I do not care
For the world, after you
You are the skin of the

Long-lunging seas
On my bones, in my organs
Moon dark, with laughing mouth

With sweet uplifted lips
That taste like Mandarin honey
The maple syrup teasing eyes

Savage in the glory of redeeming
So many empty lonely years.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/glade-laura-404696026

The Pink Swan of Pleasure


1

This night, I sit at vigil with desire
Remembering your love-cries that echoes
In my solar cavity, when we
Danced in the sea of pleasure
Bathing in the primal soup of full measures
And deft openings, where

The world became the purest joy
And our hearts trembled with excitement
Our eyes spoke then with our enflamed parts
And our bodies were tied in a worldly embrace
You sat on me like a fortunate lover
Smiling with all of your body, a cellular delight

And we revised how to kiss, and how to
Surrender ourselves to the fury of physical love
Sighing and dying, we wooed a lover’s destiny
There and then, back into our lives
Breathless and worn out, only morning could end
With her white light, the laughter
Of how we knew ourselves, in each other.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Dreamcatcher-403990395

Since our Names are Completely Ordinary


It’s good you came
I was about to lose my sense
Of interpersonal identification
You are only as lucky
As the people around you

Well so they came to see me
And I had gifts for them
And they used me all too altruistically
But I cannot get furious
At those I loved, and maybe I wish

For friendship too easily
It’s good you came
I was about to lose hope in humanity
Secluding myself with cats
And my memories of emotional intensity

You are only as lovable
As the one special person says you are
Well so I came to see you
Whispering the cherished lines:
I’m sorry, forgive me, thank you, I love you

It’s about time you let somebody like me
Into your life, I’ll watch you in the kitchen
For a lifetime and come running
Into your arms, it’s never too late
It’s good you invited me

Thank you for having me
You are the first person in a long while
Who knew how to make me feel special
I want to be significant again
And I’ll give you my everything
Flowers, poems, chocolate, my heart.

I Stumbled Against Your Mouth


92

We walk between words
As if they were trees, impermanent
Our roads are growing things
Exploring origins

I share you with history/
I listen for your tidings
Star-pierced and sweet
To find you is to find the ocean

Across disjointed sentences
The language beyond singleness
The wanting mouth
Is an empathy of deep psychology

The language of the body/
Tells a lot of flowers and seeds
We walk between words
As if they were stone, separating us

We stepped on each other
To reach somewhere, horizons
Reading or loving could only presume
To reach the growth of living things.

Photo Credits: http://browse.deviantart.com/art/Longest-Year-371433397

In the Earth’s Glory


I’ve bathed in invitations of uncertainty
I’ve wept some lonely history, in my time –
Ached for, my turn to come

For marriage, happiness, friendship
It was very hard to learn
To be patient, to not want too much –

I’m standing here before you
I do not know what I bring
Or if you can hear music

In my secret heart, it comes echoing
There were contagious smiles
Laughter traded between us

You said you liked to see a man
Come undone in bed, face to face

With your ever actively creative libido
I turned with the lips of the biggest happiness
To bathe in your eager-sweet hospitality.

I Smashed your Body – With the Ends of Love


You say you have built walls
Erected to protect yourself from
The world’s doom, maybe my doom

But what if I purified our creation
With a challenge of echoed purity
I gaze towards your eyes with

The logic of affectionate intervention
It’s not that I have gifts, only
The radiant clarity of connection

The little drops of vulnerable intimacy
I have no old-time God hidden in my loins
Only human commentary, spectacular

Sweetness in my charge of your wet places
I will spread my cloak of stars
Over your honeyed entrances

You say you have built walls
I will break down these walls with music
With a miracle of shared orgasm
Obscure your beauty, and anchor our union.

Lost in Celebration


30

Lost in the fields of your hair
I remembered the fragrance there, of the Earth
And Peach blossoms of the souls
That I left behind, so lovingly
That I forbid myself to love again –
In the dark, of beautiful and corrupt humanity
There were no bruises like the empty space
Of living alone, for penniless years
I became a master of loving without objects
Of instructing myself how I might survive
On beauty alone, without a face
To reflect it back to me, I was
.
)
The last horizon of wonder
Guilty for not traveling, like you have –
I lost myself in the fields of your hair
Counting the contracts, countries, poems
You encountered, here at the soft lines
Of your cheeks, I looked in awe beyond beauty
For the sound of your voice, the locket of hair
Where I might find the secret to comb everything
That jar of oil, that caress of celebration
That could possibly make me groan at the roots
Look down from the skyline of the cityscape
At how lovely the world could truly be.

Love-Travel


26

Make my body, your personal
Pomegranate fragrances, stamp me with
Kisses of meaning, leave no scent
.
)
But your inscriptions of spice, Romance
As spoiled as lyrical Sundays, vineyards
Of affection, where we revel in each other
>
.
Keep my mouth, cinnamon & pineapple
Close to your nipple, close to your sweet voice
Where I can hear and taste your
.
)
Excavations of Beloved tyranny, Syrup joys
That glance down the crying Theatres of Bliss
That is ours like, hours stamped with our Genius
>
.
In the happy Journal of our fractal predictions
We friend-touch each other violating aches and years
Of loneliness, where nothing was whispered from the garden
.
)
Of Legendary mortality, dream-state aqua-drums of the dance
Make my body, your weight of maddest hopes
Embraces of permanence, leave no mood unturned
>
.
No pollen of the Brain left filtered, but brine me Thy
One True Self, that I might adore your singularities
As if they were a part of my own native Revelations
.
)
Our souls will join upon these fallen Leaves
And I shall kneel with a handkerchief to clean the dirt
From the dirty Sun of our loveless travels, breathless with age.

You With Your White Energy (River in Heaven)


43

Sweetheart, was it you who told me
To Love all, trust a few
And do harm to none?
I’ve loved enough in twenty years
To die a lifetime of heartache

But your Sapphire summer-soul
Are the drifting forests of centuries
Of intimacy trapped in time
I find a dark honey in your words
When I touch your hips I feel

The opaque petals of my hurt subside
Like the sun multiplied in water
Sweetheart, I have modest dreams
Of a simple life, the epiphanies
Are getting shorter, more rare

Some of us will achieve greatness
Only in the quality of our love
To catch kisses in clusters of fruit
We know intimately how grapes might taste
But the tongue arrives at raspberries

When we touch someone whose soul
Is smooth from the waves, from
The caress of doves, intricate contemplation
Solitude, suffering, dearest I want us
To transcend mortality, for just a brief moment

And quench the scrambled blankets, feathers,
Sweet naïveté between us like soothing horizons
Why, O’ why do I trust you so implicitly?

I Would Like to be the Air that Inhabits you for a Moment


29

I would like to watch you sleeping
But for that to happen, you’d have to let me in
Let me into your life, learn to trust

Have me near indefinitely –
I’ve been lonely for too long
I would like to sleep with you

A smooth dark wave drifting over us
My toes on your heels, my arm
Over your hip, your hair – in my face

I’ve been sleeping alone, on a hard bed
Staring at poverty, nobody stares back at me
I would like to watch you sleeping

On those days I stay up, thanking
Someone out there, for keeping you here
Because I fear the watery sun of abandonment

Every month you stay, is a silver star
In my heart getting stronger, more alive
But there are no promises, when you make

Somebody else the center of your dream
I would like to watch you sleeping
But right now, you are sleeping with somebody else.

Paddling With Breathlessness on Stilts I Write


15

Until now, I knew I possessed nothing
Damned by decrees of my own
Selfishness, I pretended

Behind a circus show of reason
At the Ball of tantalized feeling
But now, I know the way the world ends

Whatever else I might succumb to
It will be the poetry of freedom
Without rhetoric, or tricks of lying

Or slang speech particular to my times
Until now, I hid in incredible musical scales
Behind melodies, beneath the chorus

All poets pick themselves out of rivers
I’m half-deceived, by the lovers who left me
Because I was nothing but a poet

But it’s my first white wave of climbing hope
The last word I say before my doom
Whatever else, poetry is my first freedom

So don’t ridicule me for loving a kind of art
My dream is an impatient cadence pure
That gives me resurrection, when life

Offers me none, these flaming parenthesis
Have become my means of transcending you.