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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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the once and future king…

The best thing for being sad … is to learn something. That’s the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honour trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then — to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting. Learning is the only thing for you. Look what a lot of things there are to learn.

– T.H. White –

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if i reach out my hand…

i reach my hand outWhen you breathe on me, my body responds with your name. And I want you exactly where you are, the way you are. I want to spread myself so that you can peer deep into my need, and still sing my praises – even as my soul sings yours. I want your tongue to trace every tremor. Our fingers entwine because we meet in the middle, and the force of our meeting – this pushing, and grinding, and moaning into shoulders, necks, thighs, and more – is a blessing I have dreamt of but was afraid to ask for. Your eyes full on mine, now.

Come here.
Be with me.
My sweet lover, my friend.
Cum.