the old-school guestbook archives
my amazon wish list... my favorite astrologer... my favorite artist... yerba mate revolution! erowid: a travel guide for interior journeys... no more war: MoveOn.org United for Peace and Justice True Majority seek the truth: Common Dreams Unamerican Activities The Nation people I adore, diaries I read: rev.raikes ariana cubiclegirl epiphany glitter333 laurakay wammo the music: the asylum street spankers backyard tire fire blue highway bill camplin wendy colonna freedom tribe joules graves guy forsyth band hamsa lila hanuman libby kirkpatrick leftover salmon pamela means medeski martin & wood the motet the nice outfit nickel creek open road rose polenzani railroad earth south austin jug band string cheese incident taarka tha musemeant the devil makes three tim o'brien band trolley wild sage keller williams yonder mountain string band |
she was here ~ April 17, 2006 - 7:50 p.m. she was here, just so briefly, but so deeply, sweetly here... and something inside me has opened the way a cunt melts softly, juicily open like a rising sun under the tenderness of the right hand or tongue... she was here and in my arms as she hasn't been in years, warmly deeply openly in my arms, bodies pressed close arms wrapped around as if somehow we could press ourselves deeper closer warmer oh yes she was here. in my arms and in my bed, moans and deep wet aching cries shivery sighs and damp soft bodies held close, after, held deep and into sleep and into night as we haven't been in years... oh, she was here, and real and warm and open and alive and oh god I've missed her like this... and missed too my heart, in a place of believing. for I find that I am beginning again to believe in this, and my believing heart is flooding with this inloveness and I'm remebering how this is, how she used to fill me in the time when my heart was open and believing in the power of what is when she and I are connected heartwise and mindwise and bodywise and spiritwise and all the small wisdoms in the moments between us... she was here, and I let the taste of her, the feel of her, the light of her, the spirit of her, the deepwarm realness of her light me up, opening doors to beautiful rooms I'd thought I might not have a use for anymore. I raised the windows, let in the air and the light, because if open doors ache in the wind, at least they don't hunger for beauty. oh, I let it fill me up, that beauty dreaming inside. she was here, and weeping in my arms on the riverbank, and all I could feel was gratitude for her ability to fall apart in my arms, gratitude for the arms with which to hold her, gratitude for her and her deep sweet realness, her heart brave enough to be broken... she was here, and counting on trembling fingers her fears as I tried to breathe warmth into her heart and hands, tried to keep her warm with everything I had. tried to reflect her perfect and real beauty all the more deep in her falling-apartness. she was here, and gave names to her fears, among them a door I opened for her years ago, propped open with a flower and three small stones, a door with a big open window and easy swinging hinges. she spoke of the door, and the fear that's always caught her steps when she's looked that way... and that door, I'd believed it must have blown shut in the storms years ago, but it laughs and sighs and opens even wider and brighter with heartfull high and breathless delight at the fact that she's ever looked that way at all... that door lets me know that it's still open, that I'm still open, that she can still fill me like this with wonder and delight, at just how deep and warm and home I feel when we are wrapped in each other's arms. that open door, that light and air, that deep and warm and sweet and real. she's one of the very great loves of my life. and she was here.
(((rings))) |