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 otherโ€™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 winterโ€™s a burden
in your hand I feel
spring burn in the bud.”

Mary Mackey 1987
From โ€œThe Dear Dance of Erosโ€

The Kama Sutra of Kindness: Position Number 3

“Itโ€™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
thereโ€™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 โ€œBreaking The Feverโ€

Painting: Owen Gent

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Buddhism

Wreathed in the flames

The tear drops spiral into one
Verily, it is a craving to go on through the mind-sweep
The wish, to wish you out of the question,
And let it be

Round and round these glowing branches grows out of the tangles
And rebinds at its own accord

All along what my heart has been saying

This wreath of flames is majestic and wild
Fuses the sunder
Burns away into, magenta afterglow
That will touch your face
And doubtlessly will keep you in grace, of all those tomorrows

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dreams, love

Rippled Ribbon

I felt like an angel that night for you
Without acquiescence of your cry
Only of your truth, wrapped in a brilliant bow of baby powder blues
In all your sorrow, your heart is still the silk
Shiny but slippery through all the grasping hands that wanted you

I once played a part in that swirling galaxy dust
But now I’m no angel
Just some kind of human creature, wanting to pause and wishing to be braver
Like the earth and give back better

I have this version of me in my head
Where I seize that separation for a brief moment
That vast chilly lake
I would plunge myself into
To cross over
Lie my body near the unexplored
But the dream is a ripple under denial
And the vitrified stones surround my sinking dawnstar fate

Art: James Nares

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love, Lunar Poems

Cords of Light

Feeling around this darkness, alone
Except for the lasso of earthshine
All I have, are these imaginings
If I was whole;
The light would break through these craters of eyes
And the vastness of dawn would nourish
our friendship like the wildflowers

Rumi says “Submit to love without thinking, as the sun this morning rose recklessly extinguishing our star-candle minds.”

Pinhole Photograph from: I am not this body by Barbara Ess

 

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Death, Lunar Poems

Blue Bees will not sting

Unless…
Roses in the park,
Shimmer as a string of red pearls slipping down her throat

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In a steel room he held her midst of mercy
Autumnโ€™s arrival at last, the violet petals collapse
Heโ€™ll pass through cosmic tunnels
And wear her voice as he nears the moon

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What of it now?
The failure of nerve
We all stand a chance
To be a queen in his eyes
When the suntory claimed the roses as blue

Poem by: NaRa

Art: Blue Bee Image Pinterest, Mark Rothko & Freydoon Rassouli

 

 

 

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