Black Madonna

Night wings over night tides.

A gloss and sheen

of an inner radiance

much deeper than dark.

She is the world

behind the seen

yet She is seen behind

the world.

The Black Madonna

is soaring

and Her feathered silence

will deafen all memory

of what has been.

She lifts you

into a shinning darkness

up up up

until you are

Her starry vision.

She is the Mother of Radiance.

You are taken

and before you can

laugh or cry

you have forgotten

how to be anything

but Her dark ascencion

Her bright becoming.

flight

I am ice,

a meteoric darkness

and starry wisp of soul

slipping in and out

of Your holy fire
but when I turn
my sky to You
I am just flight-
your phoenix
of the moment.

We Share The Same Space

We have finally stopped travelling around each other.

Your wings are a starry flight

of my mind.

My hands are Your thoughts

proof of Your exsistence.

Who shall I pray to?

I can only speak in
in the graceful howls
of all uttering circles.

I am an apartment

for Your soul.

We share the same space.

These eyes I use

are ink wells for Your poems.

Each morning

I wake up

and turn towards You.

I breathe-in

and You come out

of my heart
as Our dearest reality.

Days After

You come out of my nowhere
fully dressed.

For days after
I am stunned
by a form
I cannot remember.

A fish does not know
it is wet.
I have no idea
I am drowned.

I stumble after a memory.
It is not You or I.
It is a blood-red flower
that only appears

when lips are crushed

into appearance.

Mirror

You are the dawn in my eyes.
My souls foraging.
The roaring waterfall
of my body.

You are a daylight visitation
of our awakened heart.
I am dug out of You
and hollowed into presence.

Sometimes I touch that light
that is Your desire to be me
and I fall from
our identical image
like a shadow.

Dancing

We crash through the night
Nothing survives but our hands
which fall upwards
like rain and sky.

I find you
in the grasping
enclosing Your desire
as if it were
an orchid
succulent with light.

You give my hands
a vision
and they plunder
their own sensations
feeling You
dancing naked there.













Keltry - dancing naked by *josemanchado

Seeds

Every cell bursts into prayer.
All my little birds are howling.
Nerve endings are mouths for kisses.

Hunting in the dark we pull apart light.
You sit down in me.
You use these upturned hands
to overturn bowls of desire.

I am an nzyme
in Your chemical reaction.
We need this fusion
this dissolving.
Without a raw co-dependence
vision and feeling cannot merge.

When a plane dives into the ground
the earth buries it.
The force of the crash pulls off the wings
the fuselage splits open
people spill out already dead.

When passion crashes
the blood continues to dance.
We spill out
as ghosts of bliss
and seeds of lust.

Her Fingers Shape My Voice

Dogs bring us wounds to lick.
You eat from my fingers
to taste Your blood.

Because I am darkly shaped
like a guitar
You keep Your hands
around my neck;
when they move – I speak.

In the Opening
You shape my voice
as Your mouth.
There is a body here
but it is inward like a bud.
If I place a finger
into the unseen
moans become visible.

Love gazes back into itself.
When I push into You
You open my hips
like a door.
My hinges are all broken
since I became Your secret.

Image: Woman with a Blue Guitar.

Sam Yeates.

www.davisgalleryaustin.com/yeates_left_3.html

Bridal Chamber

No one sees us
they are too busy
being our eyes and hands.

I place my cheek
upon Your presence.
Hips become lips.
I am formed in the flow of You.
You couch and dimple
for my being.

I want to take You into my tepee.
I want You to chew my moccasins
while I adore You.
It is a cold night
and we must be marrow
for long lived bones.
I will not disturb Your hair
with wild dreams.
I will grow seasons in You.

I will rest like a warm pillow
between Your legs.
Just as You rest like a dove
between mine.

Tangled

The Beloved is wide open
wrists tied, hips hoisted up
into my deep breath.
Touchstones change what touch them.
I am water running over Her lava.
Ghost-forms melt in hot butter
desires kiss themselves.
We dance, not together
but as flames do
pouring out of the same presence.
Speaking from
the same yearning mouth.

Tangled into intimacy.

orgy

Are we many?
I want many, many lovers in You.
Every possible combination.
Make a coven of my heart.
A sacred orgy of this love-spell.

Are we two or single?
I want to drag You away
into that deep flower of our one soul.
To keep You under me there
for our rebirth together-
our marriage in the same womb.

You are above my hands now,
a ravishing darkness
impaled upon a throb of joy.
And there is no one here
but this Opening.

shock-wave

I am a car wreck
happening on a ghost road.
The wetness of nocturnal flowers.
My legs are fountains.
for the visions of my tongue.

What lamb bleats in the blood
to be sacrificed to Your beauty?
Why does my spine
breathe fire like a dragon?

I am Your secret.
What we do together
no one should talk of.
I am a shock-wave.
I will learn to speak
the deep water language
of annihilation
one tsunami at a time.

Taken

Blind roots awaken
and look for buds.

I am an earthworm
a serpent of mud.
I dare not go out
I am a werewolf eating the sky.

How do you want me?
Shall I stand just so?
Shall I lay down?
Shall I rub myself against You
like a cat?

Please don’t look at these words
they are raw with hunger.

O You just did me!

I look out now
seeing nothing but blood
licking itself.

She Opens in Me

We are mouth to mouth
like an oral tradition of desire.
You part your flesh
creating clefts and hollows
for prayers.

My hands are full of you
I keep wanting to kiss them.
I bear you like a pregnant woman.

I am a place where lips part .
Your blood is moist in my soul
where the carnage of revelation
speaks.

In Your flesh
I have a body,
a spiral shell of thirst
in that isthmus and delta
I am consumed.

Looking at You

I keep looking at You
and that focus is everywhere.
I am Your lust to be revealed.
I would be dry cinders
if Your fire were not so sexual.

I want You for myself alone.
I am turning into green energy
the impulsion that shatters buds
into suns for just one instant.

Living and dying is easy
making love to Your absence
is the miracle here.
My religion is
a shattering emptiness.

Her Broken Flower Prayer

Like the poppy

I need Her rough handling,

my heart is red for flights.

Words run away naked

and windblown

not to seed any theory

but to scatter all thought.

I am a bloodstained silence.

I am a burst open

flower of the formless.

In such moments

one bloom falling apart

will destroy any religion

except love.

sipping absence

I am inside Your love
like grape essence and saliva.
I wash my face in this lust
drunk on the scent of wild flowers.

I am an empty glass
for Your fullness.
Where you find me sipping the void
You pour me out like red wine.
You want me as Your taste.
You are a beautiful word
You have scratched upon my blood.

I have become both genders:
A blind passion
that must push down and enter
the bud and root of another sky.
My hands grasp sky-bones
they are leaping fish
for Your sensual ocean.

I know beyond doubt
that I am far too crazy
to be anything
but Your every desire.

Speak Your Thundering Mind into My Heart

Tell me
how you want me?
You may walk over me
with my own feet.
Show me
what position to assume.
What shadows to cast.
This love affair just got serious
but I smile because You use me.
Will I be the lion or the lamb?
My legs girders of passion
or stems for Your flowers?
Tell me how to please You.
I cannot do this on my own.
This ravishing
must be a shared surrender.
I promise to die for You
just give me Your Soul.
Speak Your thundering Mind
into my heart.

where your light is born

I need to speak a thing,

something that

cannot be hammered into a word

smaller than the night.

I see a terrible beauty

in the begging bowls of flowers.

My hands are pages torn

from Your life.

I am scribbled over

with an aching clarity.

Your shining darkness

blooms red on my lips

like a kiss from absence.

Submerged by Light

I am submerged by light,
lips moving
to speak like the sea.

There is a real boat
but no one is in it.
Imploring hands
disappear unseen.
This is the way
water drowns.

There are a few words left
swimming like rats
in a circle.
The Goddess
does not rescue them.

Her love is greater

than any speaking circle.

She Comes To You Half-Dressed like Your Hands

When Your fingertips
become pure devotion
She will come to you half-dressed
like hands for your thoughts.

Nothing prepares you
for that deep touch.
Your skin suddenly knows
it can see and hear the light.

The sensation is not felt
it is feeling.

You are a prairie flower
eating the sun
to become starlight.