a new poem for all your roof-raising, edge-pushing and silent acts of fearlessness
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to do what’s true, true for you
takes bravery in the blood
you must decline the invitation to shrink or dim
say no to slipping down the slope, subdued
refuse to be stopped dead in your tracks
:: to you, Lover. and to you, Beloved
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all i want is more of Him
i open my mouth
His words play and have their way
i open my thighs
His fingers skim and part my seas
every year, right around now, my husband and i do a powerful ritual to transition well from one year into the next.
you don’t need anything for it but a piece of paper and pen, but you are welcome to embellish with ritual features like wands, charms, chants, sweat-lodges, full-moons, incantations, cauldrons or locks of hair.
so, happy, happy new year to you – and if you celebrate your “new year” transition at a different time, this will still be a powerful process.
read full post ››a thank you, from Your Life, to you
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at first
i appear softly as a rowdy sunset, attempting to tempt you from your busy-ness, to distract you into dizzy-ness.
at first
you ignore me and my colorful seduction.
so then
i show up as an infant with half-moon shadows under cancer eyes in a first-world ICU or a baby with a full-moon distended belly in a third-world village, parched.
oh, yeah,
a poem that pulled me from my writing cave today. may it tighten the embrace between you and what Inspires you.
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my Muse tells me, "i ain’t your bitch, sweetie."
She likes to play coy, hide and seek, especially when i’ve cleared a day entirely for Her to do Her thing.
and when time is clipped, in short supply, when i have ten pounds of juicy ideas to fit in a one pound pot, She piles it on thicker.
She often flits, escapes the scene like steam. to see Her at all, i have to act all casual. i have to look sidewise, out of the corner of my eye.
straight on, She bolts.
read full post ››
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