Give me odorous at sunrise
a garden of beautiful flowers
where I can walk undisturbed.
— Walt Whitman —
you can’t. not yet. so don’t…
“What does it take to inspire you?”
He asked.
“I need to fall in love,” she replied.
“Surely there must be an easier way,”
he retorted.
“Why, I have already fallen in love twice today,” she answered,
“First, when I set my eyes upon the
ever precipitous mountains that surround us,
guarding us like the skin that stretches along our bones,
and second,
with the uncertainty in your voice when you asked
if there is anything easier than falling in love.”
— n. o. —
the hummingbirds…
… all I can do is let you know
they’re here somewhere.All I can do is tell you
by putting my own hunger on the page.
— Mary Oliver —
a light in the dark…
“No one’s life should be rooted in fear.
We are born for wonder, for joy, for hope, for love,
to marvel at the mystery of existence,
to be ravished by the beauty of the world,
to seek truth and meaning, to acquire wisdom,
and by our treatment of others to brighten the corner where we are.”— Dean Koontz —
antiphony (or, let the tide be)…
Dear Sir,
There are things that other people see of me and there are things I’ve only allowed you to see. On your own, you have fought through the dense jungles of my ancient fears and scaled the slippery crevices of my shy and neglected minstrel heart. My mind, you have undressed with the simple act of waiting for me to speak; each pause with you has been a crystal drop of clean water. Despite my seemingly brazen ways, my bold curiosities, and aching candor, I have danced quietly in the corner – waiting for you to see me. And accept.
For you to open your mouth and fit me inside… this is not a simple act. It is revolution. Each time your tongue has warmed me has been a cautious step towards trust. I would never have thot you might be the vessel holding me with gentle, parted lips sucking me dry of worry. Your eyes. Each look between us is ache and inside your mouth I sing – with finger tips, toes that are too long, soft nipples buoyantly hard.
Wrapped inside your tongue I moan secrets only you will hear. My clit harmonizes with your suckles and dips and swirls. My hands in your hair, digging into your shoulders– back, pulling you close to keep our melody strong.
Sliding along your warm teeth I trace the sharp edges that might one day soften into a kindred kind of adoration some might even call love. Each smile, a gift of friendship. (All of it a version we might call our own, anyway.) Each nibble along the length and curves and folds of my secret-self is a gift I have given… and you, with your sweet mouth, a door left open. If only I could stay.
Smittenly Yours,
Lola Moi xo
sea full of pearls…
L
isten, O drop, give yourself up without regret,
and in exchange gain the Ocean.
Listen, O drop, bestow upon yourself this honour,
and in the arms of the Sea be secure.
Who indeed should be so fortunate?
An Ocean wooing a drop!
In God’s name, in God’s name, sell and buy at once!
Give a drop, and take this Sea full of pearls.
– Rumi –
themes and variations…
cumming into your own…
… our battle cry for authenticity and the ideas it creates about who we are can sometimes serve to guard us against vulnerability. These places we call “in-authenticity” may just be the edges, or the uncharted territories, of who we consider ourselves to be. Consciously going to the edges of what we feel is “authentic” may actually be an opening to increased possibilities…
– necessary shenanigans, “the practice of play” –
more for you, for world poetry day…
post nubila, sol…
elysian limbs
splay across cotton weave
seed-soiled sheets till
love-ruined fields
with each sun setting
dusky slow
a new beginning
steams
clinks
percolates beyond the frame
coaxing shadow out from under
dawn’s beaten brow
tangled looks between
dream-pale eyes
scour reservoirs
of dim remembering
looking for a sign
waiting for something
heaving forth the squee
darling, turn away
this touch
and thus touching
leads back
to then
when
before Lot looked back
crows fly west
only to murder what is left of light
– Lola Moi –