Springtime/Astarte

photo-64

I know I am surprising sometimes,

in my rawness,

in my nakedness,

in how I feel tonight,

soft skin smooth and moist

rubbing between my thighs,

no panties

beneath my skirt.

Tickled and tasted

by the air.

 

I am the bees in springtime,

gathering nectar,

making honey.

 

From the fertile center

of myself,

pleasure buds

like flowers do from bulbs,

sensual and fragrant,

ethereal.

 

I was named

for a pagan goddess,

a woman

who’s body’s ecstasy

was a special kind of worship.

 

Like Easter:

I come

in the springtime.

Timbuktu

timbuktu-manuscript

I am

an ancient city,

my love.

Of stark poetry,

of hidden delights

and unseen treasures,

a womb in the desert

you may return to

someday.

 

You may see me as

crumbling walls

and ramshackle forts,

desperate hunger

and impoverishment,

but in the patient quiet of the night

I am vividly alive,

lighting the sky

with the soft glow of my million hazy stars;

singing my lullabies that are

traditional story-songs,

my willowy melodies

gently haunting.

 

I will lead you down my long romantic winding pathways,

into the hidden crevices of myself,

and there you will glimpse

my illustrious manuscripts,

read my magnificent golden script,

the vastness of my humanity

and my wisdom

unveiled

and laid bare

for you.

 

Come,

my love,

enter

inside my city,

enter

inside my story,

enter

inside me.

Latin Lover

20090110112734!Rudolph_valentino_i_sangue_e_arena,_1922

Tonight I went salsa dancing at El Palomar Ballroom,

watched the couples flowing

rhythmically together,

thrusting and twirling,

entwining like vines,

heels sliding gracefully

across the floor,

and I could not help but think

of you.

 

Of how at the club

you held me close against your chest,

wrapped your arms around me,

squeezed the rounds of my breasts,

your hands large, like pads of nopal,

and you kissed my ear,

and roughly spanked my ass

and said:

“I’ll dance with you

in bed.”

 

My latin lover,

you are so sabroso,

so spicy,

so rrrrrico,

so mmmmm…

 

You captivate me

with your hips

that sway

against mine

to the fluttering heartbeat

of the Earth Mother.

 

A glass of sangria.

Por favor.

Another shot

and I am drunk

on your caliente beat,

your fino brown skin,

your suave moves,

your animal lust.

When you want me,

you WANT me.

 

You are primal,

you are graceful,

you are so macho

but tender

like a squash blossom

and I want

to dance with you

all night long

until el pinche tequila sunrise.

Love Potion

photo-38

My love potion is made of:

geranium, mandarin orange, lemon, cardamom, sandalwood, patchouli, ylang ylang, and jasmine oils,

as well as other ingredients:

wistful hope,

cunning need,

fearful longing,

the surprising perseverance

of an oft-broken heart.

 

I am an uncommon sorceress,

love my only spell.

I will weave my dazzling web of dreams

for you to catch upon.

And once you do,

well…

let the games begin.

 

You must be terribly manly

to arouse my seductive passions.

But if you charm me,

I will take you

against my bosom like an eternal mother — a cute little mamacita, that is,

and hold you there in the thrall

of luscious pleasure,

spreading the length of my curves against you,

touching you

in all the right places.

 

I will feast upon you lavishly, leaving no part of you untasted,

open the mouth of myself wide for you,

swallow you heartily down.

 

I will cook you your favorite foods.

My tongue will fill your ear

with kind words of encouragement,

with decadent flattery,

stroke

your ego.

 

I will make myself delicious to you.

Soon you will begin to crave me

on your tongue.

You will become addicted

to my love.

 

So drink a sip of my love potion.

 

Then let the games begin…