Full

It's so scary to know that it could all go away, for any number of reasons. 

I'll try to focus on the joy instead... 

The joy of knowing a heart as vast and magnificent as the Atlantic Ocean on a cold Maine morning, or the plains of Montana, sweeping out from your toes to the foothills of those sky scraping peaks... 

The joy of knowing you... 

The joy of your eyes on mine, your skin on mine. 

The joy of your life's stories pouring into my vessel to hold for a while. 

The joy, the joy. Of you. 

Self, Loathed

I fear 

          myself, 

          impending loss, 

          massive change... 

I am lost...don't know myself, 

   don't trust myself. 

I fear my sexual expression, 

    my creative expressions 

     through words and food - 

        my love of food. 

My zest for life itself cowers under the hovering cloud of bad choices. 

I fear, I fear

I fear hurting the ones I love

Again

More

Still

I am a crumpled-up paper towel...stiff, but formless - 

used, but not for any great purpose. 

I've achieved all I ever wanted to, and then my gluttony turned rancid and I've tainted it all. 

But what more should I dream of, than the beauty I've already built, nurtured, achieved? 

What more do I deserve? 

At this point - 

Nothing. 

I deserve nothing. 

Nothing good, at least. 

Pain and anguish and despair? 

Yes. 

I've earned those. 

Pile them on, as is my due. 

And then, what? 

What next? 

When do I start to dream again? Of the joys and passions and beautiful things? 

Redirect

For me, love's trajectory is always pointing toward forever.

As it blossoms from the smallest seeds, it builds toward forever in every whisper, at every root and from every leaf. It hurts when it ends, because my heart was laying a foundation for always...

Loving fiercely 

Checking and adjusting 

Forever might be shorter than I expected

Warm Saturdays in November

This trail... It keeps me.

Sometimes I will myself to float away

High above it all

Away

To otherness, of any kind

My heart holds all that matters,

So why not let my body drift into the ether?

Why not morph into the landscape or the clouds above -

become the rain and nourish the earth?

This trail is freedom and limits, all in one.

I float a little, tethered by its boundaries.

Relief

 Let me be your home. 

Not the building I sleep in, 

cook in,

bathe in -

But

My body - 

the warm beat of my heart, 

the soft touch of my skin on yours - let this form 

that houses my love for you 

be the place 

that brings you peace. 

Collapse into me 

and let me carry your weeping brokenness 

and your weary bones.

Fading

I wanted you to save me

I wanted you to be my new life story

but

instead

here we are

You drift into the river that needs to carry you onward, away

and I

well

I just spin around in circles,

caught in the eddy of all the converging currents.

Will I find my way forward?

Or am I just meant to drift into the quiet?

And if all that lies ahead of me is quiet, do I want to continue?

It feels like the right answer.

I should just be humble

and grateful for a place to be quiet.

I should let go of the thrill of discovery – 

of myself and others.

I should forget how it feels to fall

and just be happy I landed.

I should be dutiful and self-sacrificing, 

like my mother taught me.

I should find joy in others’ joy and fade into the background.

I should be grateful. I should be grateful.

 

Yours

I'll warn you, though...

I might leave marks... 

I might howl like a hurricane, 

and absorb you into my being... 

I might stop time 

so I can feel you inside me 

for an eternity 

in those brief moments

of your skin on mine.... 

I might...

   leave a bloody chunk of my heart splattered across your face, 

panting and glassy-eyed...

I might. 

I might survive without you, 

but I might not want to. 

Sunday Sermon

 It's not a sermon

Exactly

But my hope for us all

A day to rest

From my own thoughts

And desires. 

Both are massive, weighty, enormous burdens. 

I will float and doze and dream and 

Maybe

Find relief, refreshment, repentance.

Laughter with two of my favorite girls among the trees, 

Along the creek. 

Yes. 

I can be whole again... 

Someday. 

Hikers' Hitch

Remember this place?

I remember you,

even though you weren’t still there when I arrived.

I remember facing my fear of falling

as I walked along this narrow rock.

I remember feeling stronger than I ever had

and feeling like maybe I could fly

but grateful I didn’t have to.

I remember hearing the growl of a motorcycle echoing from a few years before,

and the determination of a kid who wandered this earth untethered –

I didn’t even know you existed, but I wanted to be near you.

I wasn’t ready for your untamed growling giggles yet

but I stood at the top of this rock and knew that someday I would be.

Fatal Devotion

 I am a crisp sheet of parchment

Golden, mottled

Words scratched across my surface with the silky black splashes of a quill

He is a flame

Licking at my edges

Gentle, warm

Until, with the hushed sound of my own insistent whimpers, he engulfs me all at once, and charges through me, leaving only ashes.

Fatherhood

Your face looks tinged with happiness 

when viewed sideways, upside down...

Striking is the love, the tenderness of parental bond.

When seen directly the mood shifts -

You are tired, 

you worry, 

you miss him already even while he's snuggled into your side, because he'll be leaving soon.

You want to give him the world, 

but you know he can't hold it. 

So you'll keep hauling it along on your shoulders - 

they grow broader, 

you never struggle to stand upright, 

but the hollow ache grows vast within you at times. 

He deserves to be elevated by all that you have to give him 

and you feel helpless, 

barred from this benefaction.

I am awed and humbled.

Home, Again

Shooshing along familiar routes

under the hush of winter's eve

and the welcoming beacon of a full moon, 

we sneak into town.

Glimpses of dark, twinkling movement on either side,

we wend our way between bays and inlets,

across rivers and past harbors.

Each mile draws a deeper breath,

a gentler smile.

A sleeping Main St. greets us in Wiscasset, then Thomaston...

We roll and coast along the unfurled ribbon of Buttermilk Lane,

its marsh lit by the cool moon glow.

We shoot past the runways

and as we turn away from the head of the bay,

(west, maybe, like the street's name)

memories wash over me of all the years my parents drove along this very spot.

Memories of each of them, strong and capable -

     The years of the crab business,

the years of running us to church and dances and school and everything else "in town".

The drives they made without us.

The cold in our bones some winters when the car's heater crapped out -

but driving my giggling friends and I the 2 hours each way to that swoonerific concert anyway.

All of the beauty in the acts of love and sacrifice and expertly cooked meals.

All of the library trips and the camping trips and the beach walks...

The windy days on the rumbling lobster boat, or warm days picking berries. 

These trees and roads are suffused with my childhood,

with all the building blocks of who I became.

I don't stop to savor it often.

Usually I skim upon the surface,

cramming new experiences on top of the old so fast and urgently... 

Tonight, I let myself miss my parents for a moment.

And maybe I'll do it again some day.

Baptism By Arias

We sit in the dark, 

at the top of the arena, 

rich notes filling the air. 

I wear a dress, heels. 

You're dashing in your suit. 

I slip my hand under your waist band and down, 

lightly stroking, 

movements constricted, 

hungry for more. 

Furtive kisses, 

Stolen nibbles, 

Fearing to draw attention...

Your fingers plunge deftly into wetness, I whimper...

You show no mercy, 

relentlessly bestowing pleasure, 

conjuring moans that blend with the mournful notes of the soprano on stage. 

Panting, wild-eyed, I grab your hand - 

We stumble out to the deserted corridor and into the first bathroom we find. 

I tear at your belt buckle, and pull your hardness into me as you shove me against the wall, sinking in deep...

Frayed

       around the edges

Chomping at the bit... 

Restless, searching. 

Seeking stimulation of the parts of my mind that fill me...

My pleasure center sits empty, like a rec center in the summer... Abandoned for bike rides and dips in the lake. 

I want to grab a stranger (or a friend) and run away into the night, start over, forget everything else exists... (except my family) 

I have it all, but I want more.

Frisson

I am a growly, impatient rainbow lately...

Ready to rumble, always. 

Tension bursts through to snappishness.

I feel it under the surface just simmering. 

Am I changing? Or just fed up?

I want more. 

And less. 

I want some quiet, some space. 

I want everything to be my way, or I will howl. 

I want to sleep long and well. 

Then maybe my body will allow my mind peace. 

I want to escape all the emotions that seem to run this show. 

I want to feel the un-name-able anger seep out of me, replaced by the joy that usually floats me along... 

I want! 

I want... 

I want. 

Same

I just heard this for the first time, and I must say - me too. On my happy days, at least... 

She comes in colors everywhere... 

Notes from the Air, Vegas Bound

Surfing the clouds

Chased by the sun -

Stealing hours

Thoughts of you 

tumble through 

the lines of treble and bass 

that flow around me.

The past and the future are blurred in my mind - 

both feel like creations of my own, 

neither rooted in reality more than the other. 

No telling which way is up.

Cherry Poppin Mama

To paraphrase Katy Perry -

I fucked a girl

and I

more than liked it.

I'm starry-eyed,

can't remember why I was so fascinated with dicks 

for so damn long.

Skin so smooth

kisses so...delicate.

Her passion for me?

wilder than the ocean on a March day

raw, but sweet and soft and warm and welcoming

pleasure

Don't worry, dicks, I'll be back. You're my first and forever love.

But this....this was like a rainbow bathing my clit......

Food for Thought

***** explicit ******

I've been craving the taste of your cock - 

Picture perfect, lickable... 

I just slid fingers into wetness and imagined it for rather long, quietly moaning moments, actually... And I'm ready for more. Maybe I could straddle your lap, in that long flowing dress... I like wearing tall heels, they make my legs look long and fierce. But they'd be lost under that skirt... Sitting there, unwittingly, you smile in my direction. I smile back, mischief surging through me.... I'm straddling you before you can blink, worried about the crowd around us. I grind against you, slowly at first. You swallow hard and grip my hips, always on alert for her eagle eye. Fingers probing for panty lines... Finding none, the fabric bunched in your hands, I am wet against your bulging jeans. I lean in and whisper against your ear, cleavage close enough to lick, but you are frozen in place. "Come on..." I say. "Just slide one hand under my skirt... No one will notice..." I made sure she was detained far from our view... Your grip tightens and I bite my lower lip, arching my back a little, as I rub against your achingly hard cock. I pull my skirt up to my thigh, press my face to your neck, "Please?" I'm panting, just a little, almost a whine. You let out a shaky breath and loosen your grip.... Fingers finding their way to wetness... (Like mine are now... Fuck....) I reach under my skirt and pull down your zipper. Your eyes widen, casting about for anyone who might notice us - you're certain we are a spectacle.... Your heart races. Nobody sees us, they all focus on their own conversations, their own insecurities, lost in the thick hum of voices and music. With a throaty sigh I release your cock from its denim bindings and lift slightly to press you inside my wet warmth. Lips parted, eyes closing, my head falls back as I ride you in shallow rhythm, barely perceptible to the casual observer. Your eyes water from the pain of delayed pleasure, cock so deeply enveloped in my slick grip, but unable to thrust with the speed of chasing an orgasm.... (Fuck, I'm nearly cumming and I haven't touched myself since the beginning.... I can feel the suspense....) Just one deep thrust, and quick withdrawal, and once more - in so deep your fingers leave bruises as you pull me into you, you forget your surroundings and wail in release as you fill me with thick ropes...

Talking to myself

 I always seem to want too much - too deep, too wild, too grand. I want to be everything to everyone and gorge myself on their love. 

Today, separate from all that, I don't know how to choose... Maybe I'll just answer all the questions wrong, so I don't even have a choice to make. Maybe I'll stop feeding my own daydreams and instead focus on the career path. But when you find a friend who feels like home..? How do you walk away? Why would you?