Category Archives: waxing poetic

The Call

I stand on the edge
Of the earth,
Regarding the roiling blue
Below me;

Each hooked wave sinks
Into my chest, and
Tugs gently, whispering,
“Come home.”

The wind dances in
My open palm,
Fluttering –
An elated heartbeat –

And my toes twitch
In response,
Into familiar steps.

She calls me as surely
As the moon calls to her,
Blood surging in my veins
As tides across the sea floor

And I swell,
As the moon,
With yearning.



The glory rips raw from her throat and echoes into the night, mingling with the predators’ victorious cries and the dying screams of the hunted. Each arrow of pain penetrates deep, from skin to soul in the space of one adrenaline-crazed heartbeat, and her sorrow seeps out like quicksilver from the punctures, disappearing into the bed of fragrantly decaying flora beneath her bare feet. Every gasp, every sobbing breath sees her growing lighter, light as the air that strokes her heated skin, even as her spread feet settle into the ground, putting down roots and drinking deep of the earth.

In a moment of silence and stillness, her eyes fly open and lock onto the eyes of the One before her. Hidden deep within her, the smallest door in the darkest corner unlatches, swinging slowly, tentatively open. A warm, golden light spills out, illuminating her from within. It shines from her eyes, glows on every inch of exposed flesh, reaches out like caressing fingers into the space between them, receiving an answering smile from the One who holds the key.

The inky-black, pungent wilderness surrounding them has become their fortress. Safe within, they open to each other, their spirits twining sinuously together, rising like a triumphant flag above the walls of their retreat. Each strike delivered, each stroke gifted serves as the mortar binding together the stones of the tower erecting beneath where they stand until they are lifted above limitation and into the total freedom of the night sky. Thus liberated, as one, they tilt their heads back to the stars and release their intention to the Dark Goddess watching over them, looking on as it spirals up and away into Her grasp.

Released, satiated, they drift, weightless as autumn leaves, back to the earth below, grounding in each other’s arms. Her trembling knees give way and she sinks to the moss-patched floor of the forest, cheek and palms pressed into the damp, emerald velvet. The familiar weight and spirit of the One settles beside her and she is ensconced, cradled, safe. She is Home.

Snake Charmer

​Softly the blade hisses,
Serpentine steel fangs​
Gliding over peach-ripe skin,
Sinking in – claiming –
Injecting not venom but

Freed, freed is she from
The prison of her conscious mind,
Released to rise above
And dance, spirit to spirit,
With the Snakecharmer.

Eyes locked, they move –
Whirling together as Dervishes
In ecstasy –
Sinuously intertwining with the haunting echoes
Drawn forth by the blade arched as a bow
Over heartstrings,

Her quickened pulse pounding
Fervent beats against ribbed drumskin
While fluttering fingers key crescendos
Into the air around their bodies.

Once, twice and again flicks the blade –
A conductor’s baton shaping a symphony
Of flesh, blood and breath,
Each measure scored into limb
And sung into life on gasping cries
Before the last note fades into resounding silence.

Safely In Danger

To feel both safe and endangered:
Laid upon the altar of an anvil,
Watching the hammer of her hurtling down –

Or stretched, flesh bared, atop the embers
That snap, crackling, from her eyes, each spark
A love bite branded into skin –

Or frozen in place, pinned by the crosshairs
Of her sharpshooter words, each syllable
A shot fired: bulls-eye.

To feel enfolded by the arms, cradled by the hands
Even while their clawed apices grip me by body and soul;
To shudder at the caress of warm breath against neck
Even while being seared from tip to tail by the flame of her:

Swept up, I have been, into this cyclone,
Surfing its winds like waves and laughing at the vertigo,
Knowing I will not fall for I have already fallen,
And each petechial medal proclaims me not only survivor
But victor.

Whisked into the storm, yes, I have been,
But as it whirls ever stronger and faster around the eye of her
I am carried away not by a current of fear but a tide of joy and,
Closing my eyes, I give myself to it, let it wash over me,
And drown.

To Be A Wave

​To be a wave
Across the belly of the sea​ ​-

Reckless, wild, jubilant,
Tasting freedom in the salt spray adorned –
A crown –
Upon the crest of her.

To be the rock
​Into which she crashes,
Her joy spilling over the edges,
Every crevice;

And the sand below,
With gems from the deep,
Patiently waiting to be
Swept back home

As she retreats,
To dance again.

She is My Heart

My dreams give me hope that somewhere inside me, buried deep under layers of conscious thought and control, there exists a creature made up purely of desire, joy and rage—a creature driven completely by emotion and impulse, not by the reins of the waking world.

She is not too afraid, too tired or too busy to give herself completely over to her sexuality and sensuality. She is not afraid to look in the mirror simply to admire and not to calculate or judge. She is not afraid to love and show it, or hate and show it. She doesn’t let potential consequences keep her from being angry. She feels. She gives herself to feeling.

She is my heart, hidden deep inside my chest, and at times she beats her wings so strongly against the bars surrounding her that she cannot be ignored, sedated or controlled.

She is my light, and if you look out of the corner of your eye when the night is dark and the moon is swollen full above, you will see her shining through.


I crave the baring of my soul.

I want someone to look deeply into my eyes, open me up, take out all my cogs and wheels and gears and, with a touch, file away all the rough edges.

I need my tears seduced from me like a cloudburst in response to a wise man’s dance. I need them savored and cherished like life-giving elixir.

I crave the gossamer touch of another soul caressing mine, silk on silk twining into one single strand.

I want to drown, only to have them lead me to discover that I can breathe under the water of their possession. I want to be possessed, exorcised, possessed again.

I want to be free of want, to be beyond need, to simply float in the ether of our combined being. To be one. If only for one moment in the eternity of memory.