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we are everything in between…

we are everything in between
Your hands are wonderful, especially when their holding brings forth such
honeysuckle… sucking… goodness.

That I might be muse for such outpourings baffles me.
The certainty that I might be something more than less still eludes me
like insights newly born and swaddled in words still half-formed.

That you might allow me as witness to speak on our behalf, here
illuminates my shortcomings
as scribe to all that is profound and simple.

(There, I see it: your back swathed in silence.)

We are never more than what the other decides
and yet, we remain always as whispers,
as Pleasure that cannot keep a secret for long
and so, we are compelled.

In this mystery, I see you.
In this, we are met.
And so, are we lost.

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no two the same…

i look at you and i sighL

L

Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That’s all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.

— W.B. Yeats —

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that’s what’s up…

I’ll be the church, you be the steeple.
You be the King, I’ll be the people.
While I was feeling such a mess, I thought you’d leave me behind.
While I was being such a wreck, I thought you’d treat me unkind.
But you helped me change my mind.

I’ll be the sun, you be the shining.
You be the clock, I’ll be the timing.
While I was feeling such a mess, I thought you’d leave me behind.
While I was feeling so upset, I thought the sun never shine.

Then I found Forever
Hey! Hey! love!
We’ve been best friends forever darling.
That’s’ what’s up!

Forever!
No matter what!
You’ve got my love to lean on darling.
That’s what’s up!
You’ve got my love to lean on darling.
No matter what!

You be the book, I’ll be the binding.
You be the words, I’ll be the rhyming.
While I was feeling such a wreck, I thought of losing my mind.
While I was feeling such a mess, I thought the sun never shine.

You be the bird, I’ll be the feather.
We’ll be the best of friends forever.
While I was feeling such a mess I thought you’d leave me behind.
When I was feeling such a wreck, I thought you’d treat me unkind.
Then I found

Forever! And Always!
You’ve got my love to lean on darling.
All the days!
Forever!
Come with me!
You’ve got my love to lean on darling.
All the days!

You’ve got my love to lean on darling.
All the days
All of our days
Yeah…
Love is a shelter.
Love is a cause.
Love goes on forever.
Yeah, Love will leads us all.
Love! It is our honor.
Love! It is our all.
Love goes on forever.
Yeah, Love it is our home.

Oh yeah!
Yeah! That’s what’s up!
Oh yeah!
That’s what’s up!
Yeah That’s what’s up!

– Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros –

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this wind may blow the sun in…

Dear Gentle Sir,

There is the feeling when your cock falls into the back of my throat… when it pushes its way to the very most brink of my breath.

There is the feeling as the tears well up in my eyes… when you look back at me – no, into me – and we smile.

There is the feeling of pussy petals sighing, singing, spreading to make room for you… when my hard nipples make a different kind of mark than my scratches on your back and my heated bites on your shoulder.

There is the feeling of being held under sunsets that smell like summer fires… when you kiss my forehead and in braille, your lips write “I love you.”

Sweetly Yours,

Lola Moi xo

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arms above my head…

When I put my hands on your body on your flesh I feel the history of that body. Not just the beginning of its forming in that distant lake but all the way beyond its ending. I feel the warmth and texture and simultaneously I see the flesh unwrap from the layers of fat and disappear. I see the fat disappear from the muscle. I see the muscle disappearing from around the organs and detaching itself from the bones. I see the organs gradually fade into transparency leaving a gleaming skeleton gleaming like ivory that slowly resolves until it becomes dust. I am consumed in the sense of your weight the way your flesh occupies momentary space the fullness of it beneath my palms. I am amazed at how perfectly your body fits to the curves of my hands. If I could attach our blood vessels so we could become each other I would. If I could attach our blood vessels in order to anchor you to the earth to this present time I would. If I could open up your body and slip inside your skin and look out your eyes and forever have my lips fused with yours I would. It makes me weep to feel the history of your flesh beneath my hands in a time of so much loss. It makes me weep to feel the movement of your flesh beneath my palms as you twist and turn over to one side to create a series of gestures to reach up around my neck to draw me nearer. All these memories will be lost in time like tears in the rain.

– David Wojnarowicz –

arms above my head

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balances…

In life
one is always
balancing

like we juggle our mothers
against our fathers

or one teacher
against another
(only to balance our grade average)

3 grains of salt
to one ounce truth

our sweet black essence
or the funky honkies down the street

and lately I’ve begun wondering
if you’re trying to tell me something

we used to talk all night
and do things alone together

and I’ve begun

(as a reaction to a feeling)
to balance
the pleasure of loneliness
against the pain
of loving you

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mantra…

there was time then
when love meant falling
love meant there was in
and out of it, love meant
so many adjectives
we kept losing the noun
under it all, remember the scraping then?
of naked knees against unwanted moments.
now love, love has nothing ha! nothing
but itself
and we rise
rise rise again
into each now
into this centre
where valleys and peaks
lie together in negatives
against a sky
and every image is love
making itself
i cannot fall in love with you.
do you see?
now we rise and meet on a line
where love opens these countless petals
your fingers yes are there
inside of them
your toes too, each eyelash
all fragrant fresh and fruits filling us
a harvest like a storm
love rises into itself
through all this geometry
and in becoming
we touch as one
with what was missing all along,

(auhm mane padme om)

– E.K. –

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gone are the birds that were our summer guests…

looking legsThe crickets are raucous; wild for a reason, I guess.
The wind feels like… courage.
(Like that, only simpler.)
The fire pit smoulders; my hair smells of ash.
Tonite.
A season comes to pass framed by silky memories
and eventual, hopeful strains for some near-distant night.
You. Me. This.
We spread ourselves wide to the horizon that cradles our future –
the velvet expanse of our yet-to-be-known.
Awash in the restlessness of almost-goneness
I wish I had more time
grateful I can leave some of all that was behind.
A fruition of time that on this eve
blossoms and wilts.

Leaving is bittersweet.
It always is.
L

– Lola Moi –