Tag Archives: kyg

September

I have spent myself –

my passion,

is drought;

I drank it all summer,

unquenchable,

uncontrollably.

 

Blow something

into my parching soul,

enough to stoke

fall’s frag’ling fire

til buried deep in winter I. 

 

One year away

and I forget snow’s capacity

for purification.

One year gone;

I will

a blooming

from this threat’ning frost

wind blew so cold today

it reminds me

that here:

September isn’t summer

as you are not

and they are not

my lovers

anymore.

 

I bought closed-toe shoes

in resignation. 

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four-in-the-morning

four-in-the-morning

more!
you said

and so I gave it to you:

words
fearlessly sumptuous, irreverent, naked,

you:

closing your eyes to savor,
opening them to watch them fall from my mouth
for you,

and after each
a pause

more!

drinking them down like shots
going straight to your head.

we couldn’t see the moon from the car
so ventured out
into the late night dim
of the lush graveyard

and we still couldn’t find her,
but you found my mouth,
and I found the sweet smoothness
of the skin beneath your shirt

and we found four-in-the-morningchiming from the heart of town
far below us
as you laid inside me
shivering in the dew-ing grass
alive! alive!
in the old cemetery

heralding the deep cornflower blue of morning
as the hushed stars retreated
back behind the layers
of approaching dawn.

you said then,
out loud,
that you were meant to find me
but I didn’t say another word —

didn’t have to

the birds sang:
                       good morning!
                       good morning!
                       good morning to you!


I must apologize that I have not been updating recently with new poetry, but I have a good excuse (for once)! I’ve been doing some preliminary work, writings, recordings and brainstorming around a book I will be producing about empowered sexuality. It’s going to be very personal, deep and time intensive work for me and I’m very excited to someday share my creation with the world, but it has left a bit less time in my mind of late to focus on poetry, though don’t fear, more work will be forthcoming!

In the meantime, here’s a little meditation poem for you to savor:

Let me become the bee in the lotus
resting in that lush palace
while,
far off,

the hive sizzles,

a frog
barks low.