.
My dress, sheer as blood
Under light, falls so soft,
Your fingers, stone hard
And pointed as the sun,
Free me from cold body,
I loose as my dress, fallen
And my spirit, bare, fresh
As the lighted moon, quakes
Without sound.  

Touch me  .  .  .
My prince, rake my nudes
With tooth and lip, smell
My breaking waters living,
This spring is autumn, live,
Like a pool shudders in rain,
My skin kippering in cloud
And my *** unleashed from
Shroud, you, my man are all,
I wake in a garden full, ripen,
Of leaves and old embracings.
My springs, eternal sprouting
From a source, branch to earth
Spend me, my Lord, fire me up.

The cemetery trees are dancing in the wind.
Shimmying unapologetically
like a chorus line of boozed up
Burlesque dancers.

Some are tall and regal with pointed crowns,  
Isosceles dresses, neat and tidy,
Complete with Pine colored tutus.
Whoosh!
Like entering a room sliding
On your knees.
Whoosh!
Like someone breathing fresh life
Into you.
Mysterious but holy,
Divine yet impermanent.
Whoosh!
Strong yet fragile,
Gliding with the wind
In this game called life.
(and death)

Some have solid legs
And big shiny afros,
Showing everyone how
It's REALLY done.
Bump. Grind.
Confident yet elegant,
Bump Grind.
Full of themselves in the
Best way possible,
Bump! Grind!
Living.  Being.  Rejoicing.

Others have tassels
dangling from their limbs.
Shimmy!  Shake!
Shimmy! Shake!
Teasing me with their
Devastating beauty,
Shimmy! Shimmy! Shake!
Revealing my longing,
My passions,
For what?
I don't really know.
Shimmy! Shake!
Feeding me an elixir
Of fresh sweet hope
To drown freely, once again,
In immortal youth.

They all weave themselves
In the wind.
Acknowledging my existence
Through movement.
Using interpretive dance
As a symbolic conversation.

Happy to see me,
Welcoming me to their land.
Welcoming me home.
Welcoming me to
NOW.

.

When someone close to you

is dying,

it's as if you're

both hanging from a wire

atop the steepest skyscraper

in the middle of a

technicolor city.

Slowly free falling into the
last goodbye.

And, the time that remains

until the end
is surreal with gorgeous agony.

Every moon shines silver,

and every sun bleeds gold.

Because, it's all temporary -

you, me, us, it, them, that.

Time is precious, and that

beating clock of a heart

will someday wake you up to your last morning - with them,

your last cup of coffee - with them,

your last day ever - with them.

When someone close to
you is dying,

you touch death yourself,

and suddenly that newly fragile

person becomes a desperately

important part of your life.

You can't stop death,

you can't fix death,

you can't change death-
you can only accept it

and everything that comes with it.

The anger, the regret, the fear, that

******* ticking clock of mortality

that turns your insides inside out.

And with that painful realization

comes the remedy:

Cherish every single last

breath you share together,

every last good morning,
every last embrace,

every last....last.

For we are magic, this is magic,

you are magic.

That's the bittersweet reward of
slow dancing with death,

it forces us to finally

Live Now.