love

Undergo

At the depths of the ocean,
Your wistle contorts
You threw your gossamer net,
To cling upon the reeves of my existence
How they must cut your stronghold?
Under remain soft and supple,
To survive
In the fluidity of love

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Death, love

Resting Endearment

 

Confluent in my mouth,
Tonight I taste the turmeric essence of
Everything you told

That endearing echo remains
The nickname that gave
Oh “little one, little one”
Eventually must age
And
The thread frays

Like an untouchable
Covered in ashes of the thousands
From the same fire of the pyre
An atlas, we all must toil

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Art by: Gregory Colbert

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Buddhism, Kryptonite, love, Mental Health

Caution Tells

Not for the faint of the heart,
To lean into the longing
The heavy metallic dust
In the moonlit misery
I see it now,
The “Golden Girl” with
Obscure passion towards the seductive thread
Of a strayed friend

With dread,
I’m pierced into these toxic platitudes
Yet, my heart races for that final rest
Pumping red
Pulsating in my head

Have favor in me red
Even though their love will never come
Please don’t close the valves

Om Tare Tuttare Ture Soha

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Echo Muses, love

Love Formations

The enormity of love, sliding down
in your slot canyon
I’m isolated by your beauty,
consumed in the dreams of youth
Abandoning centuries
for this kind of love

I feel apart of it esculating
and you want me paramount
But I feel my ancient hurts spinning in the wind
Cocooning me with prickles of whispers,
and whimpering lies that are winding my clay heart brittle

 

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Color, love

The Rainbow Tree

In my sanctuary, the cerulean butterflies nestle
Their rhythmic fluttering peels my bark,
To expose my inward colors
That spill out and color-bomb as a rainbow
into your streets,
inside your home,
into your bedroom
and to dance in the loom of your heart
That flows upward
sensing to change the curvature of your mind
Into shuddering ecstasy
of the smearing iridescent presence of me

“Blue is the warmest colour” -Alt J

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love

Bloodstream

Your red coral blanket
Beads into strings
Pulling for the dance
Will the swirl of our DNA crash only,
Into sweet nothings ?

While these superimposable symbols
Consume my ever so present consciousness,
Your vestments cover me like the clouds
Keeping me from all that scorches
Near the streams of the jungle
As we play in the light

Artist: Jeyamohan

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Imprints, love

Imprints: Mary Mackey’s Poetry

The Kama Sutra of Kindness: Position No. 2

“should I greet you
as if
we had merely eaten
together one night
when the white birches
dripped wet
and lightning etched
black trees on your walls?
it is not love
I am asking
love comes from years
of breathing
skin to skin
tangled in each other’s dreams
until each night
weaves another thread
in the same web
of blood and sleep
and I have only
passed through you quickly
like light
and you have only
surrounded me suddenly
like flame
the lake is cold
the snows are sudden
the wild cherry bends
and winter’s a burden
in your hand I feel
spring burn in the bud.”

Mary Mackey 1987
From “The Dear Dance of Eros”

The Kama Sutra of Kindness: Position Number 3

“It’s easy to love
through a cold spring
when the poles
of the willows
turn green
pollen falls like
a yellow curtain
and the scent of
Paper Whites
clots
the air
but to love for a lifetime
takes talent
you have to mix yourself
with the strange
beauty of someone
else
wake each morning
for 72,000
mornings in
a row so
breathed and
bound and
tangled
that you can hardly
sort out
your arms
and
legs
you have to
find forgiveness
in everything
even ink stains
and broken
cups
you have be willing to move through
life
together
the way the long
grasses move
in a field
when you careen
blindly toward
the other
side
there’s never going to be anything
straight or predictable
about your path
except the
flattening
and the springing
back
you just go on walking for years
hand in hand
waist deep in the weeds
bent slightly forward
like two question
marks
and all the while it
burns
my dear
it burns beautifully above
you
and goes on
burning
like a relentless
sun”
Mary Mackey, 2006
From “Breaking The Fever”

Painting: Owen Gent

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