Tag Archives: sex

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!

Advertisements

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.


I am not a feminist.

 

I grow weary of the gender card,

the throwing down of blame.

 

I am not oppressed.

I do not give my consent to be subjugated

or dominated by

men or women,

 

except when I desire it.

 

I balance my feminine with my masculine,

they are not at war, or even opposition, but rather flow

in and out of me

at my will.

 

I am not pious or righteous for being born female.
I am happy to objectify indiscriminately,

and really, whose business is it how we fantasize about one another,

isn’t flesh an object anyway

we molt and throw away, rinse down the drain.

I am not a feminist because I am not just female.

My identity is not static;

just like my eyes are not blue like it says on my license

but rather a teal-gray with a ring of gold;

it is the same oversimplification and omission to label myself as a woman

a quick once-over of my curves belying the variegations beneath the skin,

the deep rivers of my masculinity coursing,

curling into my core —

I am both the snake and the flower it hides inside of

 

I am not okay with shaming men for the evolution of our species.

I Love Men, their smell and their swag,

their denial of their own nakedness

and their slow realization that their dicks are not really swords,

but rather the externalization of fear,

vulnerability masquerading as a weapon

Women, in turn, sensitive to these scared men, have pretended to be softer,

downplaying the depth of their power.

 

If you don’t respect me because of what is between my legs,

then clearly you haven’t been between them

because I don’t have a vagina – I have a portal to the inside of your own soul.

 

I am not a feminist because in its structure, it implies alliance to inequality instead of seeking the

balance of gender

favors fighting against, instead of harmonizing with, the natural, subtle, magnetic rhythms

of other humans

and engaging in uninhibited,

trans-morphic,

body-less

connection.

 

When you are brave enough to abandon your box,

ready to deconstruct your exo-sexuality,

revise your dictionary and engorge your thesaurus,

trample traditions and dissect the dichotomy,

you will discover that gender is not so simple as m or f

not necessarily determined by your body

or congruous with your clothing

but is just a story told by a culture of separation and classification.

 

I am not a feminist.

My alliance isn’t even to the human race

but instead the thread of love that sews us all invisibly together

that knows no sex at all.