Lluvia de Mujeres/ 3

"Terror ist! Baby"...(DerBaderMeinhof)

She's not the kind of fuse
used with a bomb

but the one that burns
then explodes in a whisper.

delta girl what do you know of whiskers?

You shaved a clam, perhaps some legs and an armpit or 2,

but what do you know of beards and moustache and whiskers?

I admit I don't know much mascara or eyeshadow or lipstick, I don't get cramps monthly

so how can I KNOW?

You would expect me to be you, to know what you want me to do, to be, to pretend.

I haven't a clue about you, and after so long one would expect at least a list of what she is.

But my terrorist baby, driving away in her carbomb, leaves me empty, not shattered.

She turns me to words that live in your eyes. But do either of us have a clue, really?

So I say to you, not negotiating here just saying

you should know better, I should know better and we don't.


................................................................................................................................

The sky lightens, no birdsong accompaniment

but darkened forms against the somber grey

move gently in the breeze.

My love sleeps, while my dog barks

and the screen in front of my eyes burns cold.

I get up from my chair, open the door and urge a silence on the dogs.

The amber lamp on the roads edge burns orange against a violet sky,

the first songs are heard.

Mornings have I known, so cold and unfriendly dawn

but not these days.

So much is this ode, so little in the day

so little is the day, so little that it needs be followed with eternity

and a hundred years of mornings, silvery and fresh as dew

and a hundred years of mornings to be spent with a friend like you.

....................................................................................................................................

Loving women. I loved A woman for more than 40 years. That meant certain restrictions on my ability to befriend women. I did not mind. I loved my wife dearly and honestly all my life with her, I love her memory now as much as I did
her. But I cannot commune with her. I cannot kiss her. I cannot hold her or converse with her, I can't ask her about herself anymore. I used to rely on her for all that and more and I gave all that I could that she asked of me.

Now I have many friends who are kind and decent women. They care for me, in all the ways they perceive me as unable to. They cook, they clean, they converse and they enjoy my company. They call and check on me, they bring me things and think of me...I am truly blessed. I find this love most enjoyable...and yet, there remains in me a longing to find HER, like my wonderful Carla, a woman beyond my expectations, a woman I have no restraints against, no mask to hide my face from her, no other to have to demure to or think of, just she who makes my days and nights without concern for what is "too much love". She who would look at me with eyes that see my goodness and love me for my humanity...

Perhaps it is too much to ask. Perhaps I should rejoice and give thanks that my needs are met and the faces are sweet and many. Perhaps. But am I capable, honestly, of not wishing she would come into my world, that she would be my dream and reason for so much beyond just me...just one woman, just that one I KNOW is out there, wanting me, waiting for me...

....................................................................................................................................

I don't intend to send this but i sit here writing it

I am wrestling, if it were but Jacob's angel

then the task would be only a challenge,

I am wrapped in coils, I am surrounded

by my self, and with myself I encircle me

My head under my arm, my leg in a twist

half Nelson of emotions wringing me

and an anaconda too...

It is not good for a man to be alone

especially if he wraps himself in coils

that suffocate him, slowly.

It is not the Good

for a man to be alone either

How can it be good? Look around you,

we're reproducing like there is no tomorrow

and we all need someone to talk to

and 8 billion souls that all struggle

that all wrestle, that all wrap themselves

in these mortal coils

................................................................................................................................

Critique is valid. But only in the arts.

I would like to avoid "criticism" in our love. 

I feel that I don't want to decide that some other way than the way you like to do things is right or better.

I want to accept your way of being and only help change what you may want different.

I say this because one of the things I notice about couples is that they have a gravity, each person "limits" the other through this gravity. I find this unfortunate and wish to avoid such with you. I am always here for you. Know this. I take all your concerns seriously.

I want you to take seriously what matters to me too, but I don't want you to be deformed from such support.

I hope you understand what I mean.

I was talking with a friend about relationships and it entered my head how that had worked in my past relation.

So it is not something I wish to have play between us.

I want you to know , here in these words, that you are free to be who you are with me. All the you you are, are fine by me.

In order for me to love you, all I ask is communication. I won't judge you. I will listen to you. If you want an answer, I will see what I have to say that is of value.

So, please...don't ask me to change you. I like you just the way you are.

....................................................................................................................................................................

I had wanted you and the world said no, my marriage said no, my history said no...

Then it all changed, and then you said no,

because of another, just as I had done before.

Then you spoke with me and you were kind

and you listened to my words and you felt  my feelings.

Then you started to say maybe. Maybe we could be friends,

maybe we could talk and enjoy the company of such interesting people.

Then came the day, when your confusion, my words,

your doubts, his actions, her words all conspired to bring you closer to yes.

And that brought you closer to me.

Now you are thousands of miles away, so far that only my wishes can touch you.

Now you wake in foreign bed, not your own.

Now you sleep in some location, you don't yet sleep at home.

Now you ask patience, now you ask that we build.

Now my work is a pyre, unlit, a stack of my longing, a pile of "my need" smoldering.

Yesterday was lost, it came suddenly and I do NOT long for yesterday. Life is today.

Yesterday left no hope.

Yesterday melted in the rains.

Yesterday took my love away.

Yesterday I felt that death was my spouse for the rest of my days.

Yesterday was only painful tears and rain.

Today, I write these words, for your eyes, but

let your ears hear me,

let your skin feel me,

let your nose discover my scent,

let your tongue taste my saliva,

let it all happen as it shall.

Let it be as it is meant to be.

Today is not tomorrow, nor allied with yesterday's losses.

Today I sing your praises and you sing mine.

Today is the doorway to a new life.

We stand at the threshold, looking in and wondering if this is OUR HOUSE,

if this is OUR LOVE, if this is OUR LIFE TOGETHER?

I tell you this, OUR HOME is inside, just past that jamb, under that lintel, between those posts.

OUR HOME is inside that space unknown.

I tell you as well, so that you may know for all your days

When you come home, I will never be able to leave.

..................................................................................................................................................................

• 
  

  My Woman,

  I promise.

  All I know of you is love.

  Before we meet,

  again,

  like we never have

  and always have

  all you are is love,

  
  

  being loved,

  loving, 

  my beloved

  
  

  all you are is never enough,

  because I can never be sated.

  Truly, there is so much more

  inside you,

  and if only a life of devotion

  and prostration before you can reveal

  what I need to know,

  then I pray you, force me to ground

  bleed my devoted affection

  and use my obedient adoration to build

  your throne.

  Take my undying love and with it

  build your lovely home.

  
  

  
  

  ---

Lluvia de Mujeres / 2

Wow. Snow. Yikes. Cold. YIKES.

Come here, I'll warm your toes on my tongue.

You have a doubt, let me

bury my nose in your skin

and

smell you to the bone.

I will sniff it out

and place it in the bin.

I love your wrinkles because I can’t see them.

Your eyes twinkle and shine too bright.

This incredible gift, your love light.

For me to use when I find myself

alone in darkest night.

I remain in love with you, she wrote.

I guess I will just have to see how long

I can remain tied up like this.

Morning sounds like mourning

Delight sounds like Thee Light

In the morning you’re delight,

in mourning You’re Thee Light.

Today you are madness, trembling and shakes inside and out. You have blasted my exterior clean of all the moss and pain that had become my second skin. I am raw, pink new skinned and in the wind of desire I am blown away again, wanting only your presence, your hand in mine, your touch...

................................................................................................................................

As a farmer, I can say...it's all shit and death and rot!

But my love is that and MORE!

She fertilizes the ground of my being

she enriches me and makes my mushroom grow

she infects me with my mortality

my time here is my time her.

...................................................................................................................................

Waiting

is not

what it

appears to be.

Waiting is not the

empty space,

the presence of absence,

the longing and yearning

of her place filled by

the being of her body

the void

devoid of any sense

whatsoever.

Waiting

for her is filled with the memories

of time spent together

the smell of her rose skin and sweetness of her voice

the mystery of her whispers in the dark

the embraces and kisses and caresses

shared

My arms

locked tight

around her torso

the way she likes me

our tongues pressing

to discuss the depth

of our love and passion

her heat sweating me to a puddle

Before she comes to my side, while she is underway

she is a fullness almost unbearable

an extension of myself to the furthest reaches

of the universe

pales

by her expansion of my very self to

the limits of loving.

Waiting

for her

is not a hollow

it is not a space of doubt and need

I wait for her in gratitude and will wait

until she seeks my hands again

ending our waiting.

...................................................................................................................................

She spends her day playing at the silver fern,

masked in modern hijab, her veiled face hiding from the frigid northern winter.

She walks, she sees , she notes the passing fray and lovingly stays to record the spectacle.

This woman, this pioneer, this angel afoot, this unshed tear. I wait for her arrival.

I wait for the sun to shine on metal, I wait for her wandering sojourn, I wait for her on the 28^th

In November, on February’s last date, mirrored valentine hearts in winter,

rosy cheek and lip in somber day

bring Spring, crocus, bring blue bells and shorten this night

for she keeps me waiting as seed in soil awaits warming rays.

I am swollen,

I am full,

I am breaking good,

I am promise,

I am promised

“A life of virtue will never eat you up or leave you angry or hungry”,

she takes my words by the hand and leads them down the aisle.

.................................................................................................................................

Unrequited/ 2017

Quick and sloppy, where no reply was needed...the difficulties of what
you face make me feel so small and irrelevant. I knew your life would
not let you go easily, it could not.

I am willing to let “us” wither on the vine . Not all flowers bear fruit, and I
know that what gift you were, you may not be perennial and if you
should come around again, it would be a discovery of a new bloom of a
familiar rose.

I make no claims on you. How can I? And to think you
would worry about being my shadow? I'll have none of a woman who would
walk in my shadow...I have learned the proper place for the man is
behind and to the left. On the curb, where he can be kicked if need
arises.

What the lady wishes is hard to discern, for her as well, that
is why a woman's prerogative is to change her mind.

I have never been good at such luxuries.But I do what the lady wishes,
always. I am a practical man, and despite your experience of me, I am
not prone to offer myself to any woman.

What I feel is quick to be
recognized,  but that does not mean I am unfamiliar with this feeling.
If you feel otherwise, or if it is a conflict or so much to be
balanced and maintained and reconsidered and maybe'd or maybe'd
not...I won't burden you with any of it. I remain me. I wait. You
become who you must already be.

............................................................................................................................... 

She asked me today

as always

unexpected

now I am up, set

for the life

of a cell.

Stems

A new life

precious as a baby

a promise to endure

devotion without alteration

for better or for worse

love’s the name for this

marriage, the bed for this

when two hearts meet

and true minds greet.

Where two hearts

beat as one

there is only One

She asked me today

as always

I expected

not this smile.

I am set for life

with her.

.....................................................................................

Into the deep blue of a night sky

pour my lone soul

and let the four winds blow these feelings to

her.

Ask the magic of the moons caress

and the sparkle of stars

to change the forlorn to a smile,

plant on her lips this kiss I can't give

and fill her heart with all I long to say.

Send raven clouds

direct and swift as sparrows,

to wing my missing joy

by her bedside a day away.

Awaken her with the smile I save

for her

beautiful face.

Great wheels race,

take this

melancholy,

enraptured of darkness,

and speed the distant moment of return

nearer to this place

where separated

lovers meet.

Mantle dark,

which blankets many a sad lament,

take this weight of waiting,

lift it to the void,

for my strength can only bring it to me

on this wrinkled bed which

sags in the spot

where she would lay.

Throw off this cover,

and rend these stifling sheets,

urge the breeze she keeps

to wrap me

instead

and air this space

of silent refrain for the voice that 

makes my days.

Deepest blue of this dark nights sky

send light,

a dawn,

to shine on me

while she sleeps

a land and far sea away,

and send to her the nights that burn

this hole inside of me.

.....................................................................................................................................

I went out to harvest the next bunch of black eyed peas...wandered with my dogs, watched the sky darken and pink sunset clouds in contrast to the higher white cirrus clouds...

thought of my lost life, love and wife.

Thanked the Universe for all of it.

The sky has darkened to that incredible purplishblue

\that precedes the fall of night.

Day never ends on Earth neither does Night.

Our world is always awake and asleep at the same time.

Wonder why humans are asleep awake so much?

.....................................................................................................................................

Lluvia de Mujeres / un concepto

Come ruin my solitude.

Come yell my name from outside so I can see this butterfly.

Come din my silence.

Come bang the drum of your beauty in my eyes, whip my ears with laughter.

Come stand in your light and throw my shadow on the pages of the book of my life.

Come pull me out of my chair to dance to the silence you just splintered.

Come take my peace.

Come take it and live in it with me all the days we have left.

Come blind me. Show me your soul's glowing brilliance and your hearts pure burning desire.

Come drown me, smother me in your breasts,

come shut my mouth with your open kisses, stiffen me,

come make me obey, a line such as I has never graced your way.

Come fill my time with the infinite that is you. 

..................................................................................................................................

I wake with the light or with the dark if the sun is late.
I am the farmer, I am he who plants, food, trees, bushes and flowers for bees.

I have coffee, two cups from my plants, then I get ready and put on my pants.

Dogs need feeding, cats do too, and don’t forget the ducks, three.

They honk and quack as I walk past their pool, open their gate and pour their food

onto their plate. It ‘s not yet six AM and the day is in full tilt.

Machete I gather, scabbard covering sharp blade to the hilt,

I tie the lanyard around my waist, I head out, boots flapping, to gravity’s slope, downhill.

I feel the wind and rain on my face, I think of my dogs licking me

in greeting , all tongues and jumping.

This cat’s fur rain, this garuero wind

kiss me as I head toward the gate, large trees shaking

their branches swaying above my head, I search for

weakness, I look for cracks.

No widowmaker to crush my back.

I think of all that I have done here on this parcel.

Entrusted to me, consecrated in the blood

of one who died too soon.

But we all die, and none too soon,

not one at the wrong moment

the slope and storm will drag us away

and walking down this hill

in the gloom light of gray dawn

reminds me that I am He who plants,

food, trees, bushes and flowers for bees.

My job , my vocation, my very life

is in service to all that passes and

passing too, that joy,

as shall be the day

when she will plant me.

.......................................................................................................................

How can I get you to know that I am for you?

How many unknowns before you know for sure?

How many doubts will have to be dispelled?

How many ex-lovers brought out from their cells?

How deep must we bury all that history?

Before I can be for you and you can be for me?

I know I am for you, every fiber says so.

I know you are for me, though far away says “no”.

I keep my eyes on the prize, no matter how far to go.

Everything conspires against and only trust brings hope.

You are the mystery who only you know

I am a bubble that on the wind did blow

You burst me, I thirst for you and if me you should own

I have no one to blame, I’ve chosen such in my bones.

I am The Great Romantic, but I never wander far from home,

You are my heart center and I want you wherever you roam.

Sometimes we win again, we can grin again, we can begin again

knowing it’s all the same but different, ‘cause that’s the game

and no matter what we do we are stuck, there’s no one to blame.

Feel free to be yourself, that’s the same gift I want to give

I’ll just go on being me because it’s the only way I can live

But don’t be afraid to become me, because I am already part of you

I’ll just stand here waiting, because there’s nothing else I can do.

.......................................................................................................................

She had traveled far to visit him, she had left much behind as well.

He had built an open space for her arrival, he tied his hands behind his back.

She came because she was sure and he invited her for the same reason.

He met her at the gate, she smiled and set her bag down.

They hugged. A hug for the ages. When two hearts meet.

They beat as one.

They met again and again and again as they stood at the gate.

He lifted her bag and carried it inside. She held his hand and exhaled.

They had waited, an appropriate amount of time, not rushing

Their feelings had rushed, to fill the void of loneliness

to feed the starving souls of two who had lost all they loved

He wanted to go on that ride again. She was a natural at rollercoasters

He opened the door to his house. She entered their home.

He trembled the fear of the hopelessly enamored. She radiated hope.

They could never sleep when together for talking. Only kisses brought silence.

Silence brought words, they could never sleep when together for loving.

He slid his fingers through her soft curls. She fixed him with her stare.

She breathed haltingly. His fingertips stroked her neck.

His fingers ran her clavicle. She licked her lips and kissed his ear.

Her breast heaved as he urged her softly. He stiffened in his pants.

.................................................................................................................................

 

Waking up in the morning, bringing her a cup of coffee in bed

Sit down to her sweet voice, “Good morning my man”

She’d feed the dogs and pet the cats, always had time for that

Then came the chickens and the ducks, outside in her sun hat

‘Hola Heber! Como le va?” as she strode to the enclosure.

I would give anything In this world to be able to hold her

Talking ‘bout the girl that made me happy,

talking bout the girl that made me happy

We always had what we needed,

she shopped and made sure we’d eaten

She cooked as good as our chef friends,

but hers had love that no one else could dispense

talking bout the girl that made me happy

talking bout the girl that made me happy

.................................................................................................................................

I wonder how it is that a man like me can be given so much in blessing?

I started in lust and passion and they gave me a wife, I started with illicit intimacy

and she gave me a life, I started with broken symmetry and found myself completed

by the face in the mirror that she always showed as me.

I lost this face, I lost the taste of love she gave and only bitter tears,

only unknown fears, only looking back on the years

as legacy.

But how can this be? How can she be gone, utterly?

Maybe I am wrong? Maybe she still gives me life and brings me love?

Maybe only her ways and name and appearance have changed?

Is this possible, I wonder, looking for faith and love I blundered

back onto the path the Lord has made, back onto the trail in search of she

who makes my nights and days.

Behold me in your beacon bright, know that you are the reason for my smile.

Know that the past, now she is buried, yields, giving way to

the gifts you bring me, again.

..................................................................................................................................

Epiphany, when

the obvious becomes present,

when the given is received.

Plain as the nose on your face

some might say

but, you did not even see it, coming.

All the while, you lived it.

Everyday.

Then arrives

confusion. It lays waste to

hope, drys it up

and in your mouth is a bitter taste

when the given draws back

and you’re left alone

your house is no home

and you learn too late

after she’s gone away.

What I give, is given to myself.

What I keep for myself I keep from others.

What is given, I give to me.

What is kept from others I keep from myself.

....................................................................................................................................

Afflicted

I’m so f*ked up

I wear my heart on a smile

it’s my sleeve and collar

and nothing less is more confusing.

Old enough to know, bitter,

Oh...better not to know

If this is folly

then I am taking it all, I am (4x’s)

Afflicted /smitten/ affected/ infected/

by this ease with which she...

by her smile with which she...

by her certainty with which she...

by her words, with which she...

covers

my naked need.

..................................................................................................................................

Loving women. I loved A woman for more than 40 years. That meant certain restrictions on my ability to befriend women. I did not mind. I loved my wife dearly and honestly all my life with her, I love her memory now as much as I did
her. But I cannot commune with her. I cannot kiss her. I cannot hold her or converse with her, I can't ask her about herself anymore. I used to rely on her for all that and more and I gave all that I could that she asked of me.

Now I have many friends who are kind and decent women. They care for me, in all the ways they perceive me as unable to. They cook, they clean, they converse and they enjoy my company. They call and check on me, they bring me things and think of me...I am truly blessed. I find this love most enjoyable...and yet, there remains in me a longing to find HER, like my wonderful Carla, a woman beyond my expectations, a woman I have no restraints against, no mask to hide my face from her, no other to have to demure to or think of, just she who makes my days and nights without concern for what is "too much love". She who would look at me with eyes that see my goodness and love me for my humanity...

Perhaps it is too much to ask. Perhaps I should rejoice and give thanks that my needs are met and the faces are sweet and many. Perhaps. But am I capable, honestly, of not wishing she would come into my world, that she would be my dream and reason for so much beyond just me...just one woman, just that one I KNOW is out there, wanting me, waiting for me...

I don't intend to send this but i sit here writing it

I am wrestling, if it were but Jacob's angel

then the task would be only a challenge,

I am wrapped in coils, I am surrounded

by my self, and with myself I encircle me

My head under my arm, my leg in a twist

half Nelson of emotions wringing me

and an anaconda too...

It is not good for a man to be alone

especially if he wraps himself in coils

that suffocate him, slowly.

It is not the Good

for a man to be alone either

How can it be good? Look around you,

we're reproducing like there is no tomorrow

and we all need someone to talk to

and 8 billion souls that all struggle

that all wrestle, that all wrap themselves

in these mortal coils

farm for sale

I set it in action, I invited my friends in too

I started a process in motion and now
what can I do?

have to let it all play out,
have to find out what it's all about
have to be secure and not be in doubt

maybe I will be sold out to one
who
sees the value of what we've done

maybe I'll be here when ninety knocks on the gate
or just down the hill in the next lovely place

but I set it in motion and now my fate
hangs on the kindness of strangers that come through my gate.


................................................................................................................

My woman

I promise.

All I know of you is love.

Before we meet,

again,

like we never have

and always have

all you are is love,

being loved,

loving, 

my beloved

all you are is never enough,

because I can never be sated.

Truly, there is so much more

inside you,

and if only a life of devotion

and prostration before you can reveal

what I need to know,

then I pray you, force me to ground

bleed my devoted affection

and use my obedient adoration to build

your throne.

Take my undying love and with it

build your lovely home.

On an island in the sea

On an island in the sea lives a woman I've never met

and the more I imagine her, the more real she will get

I imagine her long locks, blowing on the ocean breeze

I imagine her yoga moves, her head between her knees

I imagine her loving look taking all of this in

I imagine her smile as she jumps in the sea for a swim

On an island in the sea lives a woman I've never met

and the more I imagine her, the more real she will get

I imagine her converted van, her little dog and her Hawaiian tan

I imagine her fleece and her blue flowing dress

I imagine the sweetness of her soft caress

I imagine she sees me here so far away

On an island in the sea lives a woman I've never met

and the more I imagine her, the more real she will get