Tag Archive for 'napowrimo'

love is becoming a safe word

love
is becoming a safe word
one i use
precisely
when the risk is greater
than my courage

and i mean
slow down with me
and i mean
take my hand
and i mean
i want time with you
to see you whole

from this miraculous portion
we call a life
i want to give you truth
i want you to see me
off stage
and outside of wonder

love is becoming a safe word

i can taste the near-loves
with discernment
and say
oh that is unparalleled desire
oh that is a broken bowl who senses the gold in me
oh that is a new sibling
and
oh that is the future

and moving through
fields like curtains
i find what love is:
reflections of my self
that make me uncompromising

i find what love is:
a house where the windows
are gone
and the doors are all open
and i feel contained
and content

i feel what love is:
growing from gut heart
intelligence
to the edges of my body
an ecstatic yes
to who i have been
am
and am becoming

saying absolutely no
smiling visceral yes
showing this, not that
a very specific please
and so much thank you
all this love in action
gives me more of my life

and with this
aliveness
i write more poems
i grieve with my whole memory
i rage from the root
i care with no bitter edges
i accept what is
i surround myself with
sweetness, and excellence
and i create
with each next breath

and it is all delicious
it is all exquisite
it is all opening
it is all
love

letting a baby go

there is more blood than i can comprehend
my mind is full of the idea of the blood and
in the weeks after
i say more about this abundant blood lost into my body
than the baby
i look at the pictures
which seem to be from a planet of darkness
a claustrophobic place
i can see how you could get lost in there
i had a lover who was supposed to be light and casual
and then another
this is sometimes my way
and but this time
between one and the other
in the space of a month
i became with child
i was pregnant
and i don’t live a child friendly life
not in my body
the whiskey, the weed
the travels
the long nights creating in the half dark
i am a certain kind of woman
i love the woman i am
did the baby notice this
did the baby understand me so clearly
and turn it’s miraculous life
into a passing trauma
was i unworthy or unwilling
was he underwhelmed, unimpressed
was she unborn for any reason
a year of study has yielded no answers
only more tenderness and more
and this truncated
immeasurable love
this theoretical love
this vigor for a wholeness
no longer material
but magical
little lost one i want you to know
i have thought of you often
lived a parallel life with you
expanded into a great goddess full of you
labored for your entrance
nursed you from these magnificent breasts
rocked you past midnight
shown everyone your beauty
i have thought of how you were already whole
even if you were never viable
even if you got lost
as i often do
you were just like your mother
rooting everywhere
regardless
and yes
i have looked for you
in every other child
but you are nowhere to be found
outside my heart
so i know this
i know you would be 4 months old today
and i would always track time by your breath

i know everything i can know about you
and i will always love you
and i will always
always
love you

a pleasure activist at the dentist

dear hot dentist
your fingers in my mou-

dear hot dentist
we are so different
i learn from experience
you? years and money poured into school
so you could tilt me back in this chair
and plunge your fingers in –

dear hot dentist
it’s not all these feelings though
it’s just
it’s the vibrator in my mouth
making me giggle
uncontrollably –

dear hot dentist
even your assistant is hot?
you turn my jaw between you
telling me open
open –

dear hot dentist
you are seeing the worst of me
i swear
but i have learned so much
about small spaces
and your persistent fingers
and –

dear hot dentist
i blush and squirm
my swag a spittle on my chin
my tongue awkwardly avoiding your
everywhere fingers
numb

numb
but happy

softer on the bones

no one told me
the skin of my lovers
would be softer with time
age loosening flesh from bone
and I would seek this
instead of firm fruit
the movement in my hands
of memories and pleasures
the hours after midnight
before dawn
when everything is whispered
even our screams

that i would cultivate a
fetish for scars
for the precise laughter
i
call forth

and i would be so excited
for every lover who came before me
shaping this moment
when you know your demands

and thank the whole mystery
for everyone who accepted my carnal invitation
articulating my concessions
and my deep lines
in the ancient sand
not that, this this yes god this

no one told me
how would become more important
even than first impressions
and I wouldn’t want any of the things
i was told made a life

and i would love the new, even now
the new level, the new exposure
the new word and voice
the new rhythm

the new me that emerges
each time i realize
oh – i am aging

and everything
everything
is more delicious
with time

the delicious

the delicious shifts as i become adult
it was the black of vibrant womb
it was running downhill with no fear of injury
it was curse words sharp off my tongue
it was sneaking into the school attic to kiss a big-lipped boy
it was the dinner table, making my sisters spit with my exquisitely timed moment – laughter, then my innocent face

it was dancing in a warm pink-lit room spun by pills that reminded me of happiness when i had forgotten
it was a deep lake in the bottom of summer
it was justice held in our hands as we shouted assata’s words and wept together in our shared dreams
it was the moments on the hardwood floor when no one was watching, and, even briefly, nothing was missing

but now
it is the soft suckle of my next idea on my lip,
my next love spilling up from the cave of self under my heart
the sounds of the babies telling me who they are
how i feel when my beloveds grow
the drifting weight of sleep pulling night over my eyes
my own shapeshifting flesh grasped whole in my hands
a life lined up for my pleasure

it is the beginning, the mid-morning, the afternoon, the end of, the dreams of
a well-loved day

the future of children

before She spoke She dashed a hand into the water and pulled out a fish shining with rainbows, limp and stunned by Her touch. She flicked it whole into Her mouth, then pulled out, by the tail, a skeleton, fragile bones clear of flesh, which she returned to the water.

then She said:

love is never a mistake

a lesson
a force of life
a becoming tomorrow
a preparation for self
a landing in divine purpose
yes

never a mistake

love makes the miracle

never in obligation, we know: cause we got to continue
or we want a son
or we already with child so oh well
or cause it’s what people do
or we just lonely

we can make miracles but
it can’t be so much work
please do better

love is always abundant –
we can nurture everyone
who comes in love

but these days
we struggle to nurture our obligations
our shoulds and ‘posed tos
our abandoned experiments
our too-scared-to-do-otherwises
our i-didn’t-thinks

it is a calling, creation

do we love the heart beating in the womb
do you love feeding life from your own miraculous body
do i love dreaming up ways to comfort the inarticulate wailing
do we love the future
love shaping life for survival
love letting go while holding on

all that love is what grants the miracle
the days it is meant to have
and only those days
only as good as our giving

i know those who
survive without love
carve out of themselves
a new heart
press rhythm into it

are they regrets? tch
are you looking backwards? tch

we have no regrets
we have offered our Self to all of them
and now we are looking forward
at our own aging body
diminishing with time
and resilient and fecund
and sacred and willing
and we are saying: only love will survive

love is the only significant factor
in the next stage of evolution

we are beyond the purely biological now
we begin to see that love
is of the body,
and can make of the body
any necessary reality
parenting is not a ticking clock
it is forever
as are we

and still, We mature

the answer is: who do we love
and how?
bring love forward
and sustain it
and we will sustain you

healing my knees one meaning at a time

turn the whole body to face the future
line up the ligaments, the gut, the heart
anything turned backwards will snap
and shimmer
and suffer

the meniscus is shaped like a gasp
like faith
it can get unmoored
like faith
it is more dangerous when broken
like faith
it is only healed through use

immobilize the doubt in the joints
until you learn to use it wisely

focus on this one thing,
and then the next one thing
that is enough

swallow only what your body needs

dream of dropping sweaty low
dream of running on the beach
each step could be a disaster, but
each step makes the next step more possible

find the caught place inside
press against it on purpose
healing is erotic

find what is heavy within
lift it slowly
grasp that the tension is aliveness

be the certain footsteps in the dirt
trust the earth to hold you
use the entire body to move
to hold on to the softness
to love the self

revel in your commitment to fluidity
meditate on dancing
honor your cellular resistance to cages
honor your inner pleasure seeker with the scorpio moon
be an invitation to now

stop turning your head to some other place
relinquish other peoples’ lives
watch where you are walking
be where you are standing
listen

don’t numb the pain,
it holds your instructions
your boundaries
your permission to sit down, lay down
the ease that awaits you

don’t dismiss the pleasure
no matter what is broken
you still thrill
still undulate when you hear music
venus is in your 7th house
goddess is your calling

finish the motion
then start the next motion
you have so far to go

from earth to obsidian (28/30)

prompt: write a poem about bridges. A bridge is a powerful metaphor, and when you start looking for bridges in poems, you find them everywhere. Your poem could be about a real bridge or an imaginary or ideal bridge. It could be one you cross every day, or one that simply seems to stand for something larger – for the idea of connection or distance, for the idea of movement and travel and new horizons.

queens aya and e— tell why

we walked this sky
because we were not wanted
because we were always targets
of extermination

we left in twos
like all sacred beasts
spinning a path
towards another time

where we cannot be hunted
skinned, broken
lynched, choked of fair breath
expected to look away
from our genocide

where our love is no one’s
path to hell
(that look in the eye
confuses even righteous desire,
or the spark of forever)

we bet on the
miracle of our beautiful
black and queer
and liberated
bodies

we called our ship
Harriet’s Escape
her of rocket science and
witchcraft, dream fuel
and tomorrow
as our only direction

we came here for a future
in which our flesh is precious
in which our children are divine
in which our lives matter

we spun the bridge from
death to life
from supremacy to love
from earth
to obsidian

24-27/30, poems

catching up on poems.

home to e— 24/30

going off prompt to share queen aya’s first love poem of her second affair with e—

in the end
coming home was easier than departing
that was how i knew

she was hearth
i was unable to explain
or step away

i found the little bird
puffed out black chest
you have never seen such plumage
and fragility

i was holding her cupped in my palms
and then she had me
in careful talons
a million meters up
breathless, knowing only her name

she is a stranger still
made of years i have no reference for
in her eyes
in her hands
the exquisite now is enough

aya’s return 25/30

going off prompt to share e—‘s first love poem from her second affair with queen aya

the queen has returned to me
more accurately
none of her reasoning could keep her from me
none of her strategy

when i was delirious
she could be trusted with my blather
when i was coherent
she blushed at my sharp desire

people say she is a sort of goddess
but she is softer than that
no lightning, no arrows
she is more solid than that
she has the constant presence of a planet, or star
orbital, molten, bright

my armor piled in the corner
my footsteps brilliant with dust down her hall
i made it through her organized doubt
her thighs are open beneath the sheet

the vermillion moon sees 26/30

prompt: write a persona poem (a poem in the voice of someone else – mythical, historical, fictional, inanimate)

i know water and salt

wherever they move together
i come pulling

i tug obsidian round
and turn her away
our dance is forever

i am the first moon of blood

their taste was familiar to me
the first two barely spoke
for weeks they lay on the surface
a new home, but they only explored each other
conversations with closed mouths

in the silence of miracles
the other who came through them
belongs here
belongs to me

i lay her to sleep, rock her
bring her up to the surface just before dawn
so first light won’t startle her

i make her dream her hands are made
of shadows and sequin
the whole system whispers it
‘she is obsidian’s child’

the humans don’t know
obsidian heard them coming
and became a home for their love

i watched her choose her textures
adjust her orbit to match their rhythms
become irresistible

she fell in love with them
so alive
in the heavy quiet of space

the humans don’t know
their first child is not only of women
but half planet
veins full of stardust

aya and e— lay down and talk 27/30

write a hay(na)ku, a variation on a haiku. write a single three line stanza, or string them together.

a single piece of papyrus, passed back and forth in a planetary collective meeting between the reunited queens.

lover
the child
is she well?
beloved
she’s impossible
and so joyful

heart
tell me
do you remember?
slowly
tender moments
return to me

witchcraft
your touch
has not changed
perhaps
my heart
can not change

baya
her skin
is growing dark
daughter
our alien
she is home

lover
can we
twin the miracle
beloved
hold me
i have millions

two of keys (23/30)

prompt: take a chance, literally. Find a deck of cards (I used thecollective tarot), shuffle it, and take a card – any card! Make a poem from it.

from the manual on memory displacement, in the obsidian guide witchcraft and medicine files

there is no way to remove a memory
…yes sure from the mind
but so far, in our experiments, the heart cannot forget love or grief

these memories can only be displaced
locked deeper in the heart
than the present moment

it takes two keys to lock the memories away
one belongs to the memories’ owner
the other to the master witch

trust your witch
even a master can be a fool

addendum:
so long as the master witch lives
the memories can be recovered

but the process is violent
to the tender system
and can never be repeated

when the memories return
they take the center of the heart
for a year or more
before integration

when the memories return
all that wholeness can overwhelm
a halved heart