Hibiscus Dreams

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It was

a fever state,

hot and delirious;

being in love.

 

Love was a febrile hallucination, a trick of the mind.

Lurid colors, vivid imagery, rich emotion,

desperate beauty;

a haunting vision

that can’t be unseen.

 

Our bodies were tumid fruit

that ripened

in the sultriness

of love’s summer.

We gorged ourselves on textures and tastes;

the enchanting sweetness of lust,

the decorous tartness

of impatient longing.

The sumptuous spice

of passionate encounters.

The bitter sourness of ugly hurts,

dark moments that crystallized

into insidious weeds

and took root in the space between us;

that gave the kiss of death

to our hibiscus dreams.

 

In the cool blue light

of nighttime,

I feel inside myself

for you,

caressing the empty spaces

where your memory lies;

teasing at the edges of loss,

touching the pleasure that remains.

 

I blossom endlessly with wanting,

love’s eternal flower,

red petaled,

bright and pretty,

subtly fragrant.

I am one

who dreams of you:

the bee

that stung me.

Dusky Rose

    
Do you still drink

of my succulence
in the hot July heat 
of a faraway dream,
my ethereal scent of geranium
rising from your night sweat,

a fragrant, poignant memory?
You know 

my taste is sweet,

that of plumeria honey.
Flowering in the sensate garden 

of my bed,

I turn towards you,
in vivid sleep.

You are my beloved ghost,
cradled in the flourishing vines
of my arms.

You may see me

as a Venus fly trap,
cunning and expedient.

But I am not that, no.
I am a dusky rose,

carefree and forgiving.
A beautiful flower,

unwittingly planted

in the dark soil

of your mind.
Pua Nani.

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.








Mother of the Moon

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At night
I enter the liminal realms,
this wild jungle of dreams,
and forget
who I am.

I wake to the thought
of you.
Insistent pain,
the sting of my life’s wounds,
reminds me,
in a way
that comforts.

I do not want to lose this world,
her days,
her nights,
her majestic cycles.

I want to keep my role
as sacred timekeeper,
hugging to me
the vast plane of consciousness,
singing it lullabies
with melodies forged
from the unseen.

I will not be dislodged.

I will grow deeper roots.

Even as the sky darkens
and dips
towards the dimness
of a thoughtless eternity,
I will become
Mother of the Moon.

The Hope

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shine bright like a diamond

My heart is a diamond,
the hardest known natural material,
enduring and sparkling
with enigmatic beauty.

Cut only by other diamonds,
my heart is cut
by the vicious action of yours
into the latticed crystal of my being,
the pressure and sharpness
of your dark love language
that shatters
me apart.

Even diamonds have a cleavage point.

Hope may appear magnificent
in its grand facade
but beneath that there is a blueness
that permeates its structure.
A red glow
that lingers in a dark room,
revealing its underlying curse.

I am tired
of the pressure
that formed me;
of being mined
for my resources;
of all the blood
that has been spilt.

I just want
to shine.

Roots and Sky

 

 

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You are the drum,

deep, resonant, grounding.

 

You anchor me

into the beat

with your resounding presence.

 

I can sing

into the world

my heart’s melody

when your careful rhythms

envelop me.

 

When you root me

the way

you do,

my love,

I am free to reach

for the sky.