Your Shadow

You left

your shadow.

Here

with me.

A dark impression of you remains,

blackly radiant with your kisses,

your resinous scents

of oudwood and amber.

Haunting enchantment;

fading golden glow;

whiff of fragrant sweet tobacco smoke;

nighttime sadness.

Midnight salt and sweat

of your skin

lingers on my tongue,

tasting of redolent spice.

You are inside me still.

I can feel you,

writhing

in and out,

our souls touching

at the hinges.

Memories of ecstasy, of betrayal;

these rich, royal colors,

all this pleasure and pain,

dark amethyst hues,

held within my glassy heart

like a powder keg.

In the same

dangerous,

volatile manner

that an enigmatic old bottle

contains a djinn.

Oestrus, This Birth

 

 I made love to the desert,

to the pinyon pines,

to juniper smoke and dried lavender,

planted my seeds there

in the springtime snow.


I sang to blue cornmeal

and Mother Spirits.

I danced to the gnarled riffs of blues guitar,

cradled myself in the music of bluegrass hymns,

slept with the ancestors, 

huddled in woven blankets.

We laughed through hardships,

warmed our hearts with stories.


We were native to each other.


Wildflowers 

of a graceful future 

blossomed from my womb,

intrepid dreams with deep bulbs

for roots.


I left these plantings,

these beautiful parts of myself,

like frozen buds,

there, on tribal land,

at the peak 

of a sacred mountain.


They tended to themselves 

in my absence.

They grew, 

with inchoate longings.


They were souls

that shimmered in the high desert starry night sky

waiting to be formed

by the magic 

of love.


They were medicine spells cast 

like lines

in the subtle poetry 

of the otherworld.


This year,

destiny bloomed,

a green shoot

in springtime.

The seed of your body 

nestling inside my rich and fertile ground;

my sweet scent 

of geraniums flooding your senses.

I am thawed,

warmed

by your raging heat.


This birth

will come

to be.








Naga

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I travel on
a taste.

I explore my world this way.

A mystical journey through chocolate corridors into lushness of coconut palms and spice gardens;
a barge crossing
through the backwaters of God’s own country.
A quavering high pitched singing
undulating on the breeze
to beating drums,
carving the air, fragrant with jasmine blossoms and acrid smoke,
to the silky shape of
erotic devotion.

There was a golden light-filled room
that I entered
in a dream
before I arrived.
Sacred, mysterious.

I was filled with wonder then,
and burgeoning hopes like tender lotus flower shoots
nourished by a tropical monsoon
of sights and sensations.

This gem
on my tongue,
cacao, curry powder, coconut,
rich and transporting,
takes me back
to the other side of the earth.

Honeysuckle

photo-150

Last night I came to the bittersweet edge

of my loss, the memory of you

a changeling in the night,

otherworldly,

magical.

 

Thinking of you,

this flower in my hand,

I bite down on the pithy stem,

violently,

and taste the sweet honey that oozes out.

 

Thinking of how you sucked

my own nectar

like honey

and left me breathless

to be devoured again.

 

Tonight the sky will light with the Super Moon;

it will be the moon’s closest encounter with the Earth

in a long time.

 

Like the moon,

you loom large and ethereal

in the firmament of my being,

magnetizing me with the force of your tidal pull,

reaching for me

across the chasm of time and space

to touch

your celestial body

once again.

California Tantra

photo-36

My hands play a sensual raga

upon my sultry body,

fingertips grazing

the bells of my breasts, nipples tinkling like kartals,

the drumbeat of my clitoris

throbbing like Zakir Hussein on the tabla.

 

Unbridled longing is my siren song.

 

My bed is a magic carpet from Vijayanagara.

My inner Tantric temple is made of molten rose quartz,

garlanded with jasmine flowers,

smoky with the scent of sandalwood,

the pink fleshy gates inscribed with lilting golden Sanskrit letters,

padmalaya shriksha:

“lotus-dwelling, place of radiance.”

 

Enter me and you will enter Shangri-la.

 

Sweet and tart is my rasa.

My sweat is Himalayan salt;

my juicy mangoes are lusciously ripe.

My hot little pussy drips neem honey and unctuous amrita;

tease your cock against me

and I will rub this on you

like a salve.

 

Suck on my breasts

and taste my sacred milk of Wisdom,

receive the bittersweet Ayurvedic medicine of my Love,

for I am a Goddess with many arms and many hearts

and many g spots

and I will eat you like Durga into oblivion

until you cum

hard and aching and deliciously liquid

all over my lips,

momentarily illuminated

with the knowledge

of Absolute Shivashakti

as I swallow you down.