i am torn up
ragged
but there is pleasure
still to give
there is love
still here
to enjoy
i placed delicate lily petals
on the floor
and lit candles.
the light crept around
the darkness,
along with the sounds of summer
and the heat –
such heat.
i can’t remember your taste,
a memory i can leave
in the past,
but the lily petals,
how they curl inward,
flesh toned and sensual,
they remind me
of who i was –
of who i am –
even as i willingly
release memories of you.
this would be fine
touching the sky as we do
a million miles away
as we are
each one saying
this is fine
the dust of
the past
still
underneath
our nails
these wide eyes
like legs spread open
is this really empowerment
i see the shadow
being pulled along
but whose arms hold who at night
resting with another
not in your nest
is that the recognition you seek
flesh flesh flesh
but that’s not courage
true strength is surrender
a need to hold
the longing for passion
somewhere within
beyond the stained sheets
and the hot nest
you cradle a desire
for another lifetime
For Eszter
trees touch the early blue of dawn.
these old fingers,
bent from life and seasons
of joy and work,
are still moved
by pleasures of youth.
i enter
and wake you softly.
you, still wrapped in sleep,
warm, with
gentle sighs that tell of dreams,
of worlds not understood here,
here in waking-life.
your body, perfect to me,
extends and stretches,
exposing warm flesh.
it unfolds
and i explore your figure
as if for the first time.
i breathe in your sleep,
tracing your being
with my lips.
my body presses against yours,
my erection
reveals my thirst.
in continuous lines
i draw you with my fingertips
so as to hold this forever.
For Jeremiah
(It has been one year since my breakthrough in France. For months after the experience, I referred to it as two things, 1) a breakdown and 2) an incident. Neither of these is how I view it now. It is a breakthrough. At the time, this was impossible to see, naturally. It was the most horrifying experience of my life. Even months afterward, I was disturbed and rattled by the events. I am aware now of what I witnessed, of what was presented to me. That which I cannot put into words, that which only appears in dreams and visions, speaks to me of such knowledge. Thus, the reason I regard it as an experience. I needn’t go into a lengthy explanation of why, as I am sure that it is evident. For a long time, I worried that another “incident” would occur. After my return from France, I had a chronic worry, an almost tingling sensation that another breakdown was just moments away. As the months passed and my perception shifted, I began to realize how powerful all that came to pass was. The doors had been opened; and it is now an experience that I hold sacred.)
i fold my energy around myself
embracing my being
i go within
i left something in france
in those mountains
deep in those mountains
who will i be
if i am no longer jeremiah
shedding layers
from autumn
to winter
to spring
i held on
there is such safety even in pain
i wanted to return to him
to bring him back
what would i be
who would i be
a twilight voice said
you will be you without being me
you will hold you and only you
of you you will be
for you you will be
it was in the new year that i awoke
sometime in the early hours
in the dim light i opened my eyes
and saw myself
i witnessed myself
i am no longer jeremiah
though i insisted
come with me
i can’t be me without being you
who will i be without being you
again the twilight voice spoke
you will be you without being me
you will hold you and only you
of you you will be
for you you will be
in the dim light of the new year i finally awoke
in the early hours i opened my eyes
and i saw myself
i witnessed myself
i am no longer jeremiah
the wind blows in a certain way
during the deep winter months.
it is difficult to describe.
it sounds like a mix between
a shushing sound
and a soft whisper
as it moves along the side of the house
and onward into the night.
it isn’t deep winter,
yet i was awoken
from sleep by its movement.
maybe it is a shushing sound
or a whisper-like hum.
though at this point in my life
it sounds like a memory.
jeremiah once listened to this sound.
who was he?
who was i?
i will not ask this outwardly
to the world.
it holds few answers for me.
the wind has returned again.
did it carried jeremiah away
during its last visit?
no, i simply awoke from my rest
to the wind moving about my soul,
gently pulling all that
which was no longer needed from within.
how beautiful
this empty house
this soft morning
i wonder
saying aloud to myself
in this moment
what more
do i need
you
appearing in dreams
covered in dirt
and hardened
gorgeous to me
like a
dried flower