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Be unclad of all fear,
oh child that is mine,
of all of its grip and
its guile.

and go light as the air,
as the air, my love, as
the light and the air
at dawn.

                  * * *

Let your gladness be sought,
oh child that is mine,
be sought, the desire of your heart,

and may those that pass by be
the gladder for your touch;
the gladder, child that I love.

                  * * *
                  
Be you clad in all colors,
oh child that is mine,
in all colors, my love, save one.

And that color you will hold
in the palm of your hand,
and your eye will always be on it.

                  * * *

Its weight you must ken,
oh child that I love, its weight,
that you'll surely keep steady,

for it's woe to you, and loss
beyond loss, if that weight
should ever be greater.

Oh it's woe to you, and loss
beyond loss, if that weight
should ever be greater.
Derived from a melody of the kantele, the Finnish harp.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vG22yCH6cCo
Oh! Here in my
heart, in my
heart of hearts,
is the name of my love,
my love.

Oh! Here in the
cleft, in the
deepest of deep
places, sheltered
from the wind,
and the sun,
and the sea,
is the name of my love,
my love.

There, my love
in my heart of hearts,
in the dark
of my fear,
and my sorrow,
and regret,
within me forever;
comfort and
solace.

In the fires of
my heart, in the
rivers of my blood,
as life, as the life
of the land, is my love,
my love.

And on my lips,
on the wings of
my breath, is her
name, my love.

In the times
of my gladness,
in the gladness
of my soul,
when my skin
trembles with
the spirit and
sensation, then
am I the gladder,
far more than
any man,
than any at all
in the telling of
this earth,
for I know what
it is to hold
love in my heart.

Yes I know
what it is
to hold love
in my heart.

And I hold you
in my heart,
in my heart,
in my heart.

Oh I tell you
love, you who
dwell within me,
in my breath
as the lands breath,
in my bones
as the lands bones.

If that time too
should come,
if that most blessed
time should
come in its time,
in its time, that
is its own time,
and our lips meet,
seed and seeds
desire, there
after long yearning;
after the longest
of long yearnings.

Oh, I know not
what I'd do,
oh my love,
oh my love.

Oh, to know
what I'd do,
oh my love,
oh my love.

But I think that
I'd burst, oh
my love,
my love.

As the dam in
the springtime,
my love,
my love.

But to feel your
touch, your touch
that burns, and
to drink your eyes,
as the pine and
hearthlight,
to know of your
scent, that of
all others is
your own,
and to breathe your
breath, as one,
as one.

To breathe of your
breath, as one,
as one.

Oh for this
do I yearn,
oh my love,
oh my love.

And for this
I'd yet yearn,
oh my love,
my love.

though I withered
in the blaze, oh
my love,
my love.

For in my heart,
in my deepest
heart, yea, in the
deepest of deep
places, there you
are, my love,
and your name is on
the point of my
lips, to fly,
to fly.

To fly as the eagle
flies, swiftly and
with great soaring.

It is you and none
other that I love,
I love.

And in these words
do I tell it, my love,
my love.

Though they fall
unanswered, my love,
my love.

Here is my cry.

Here is my cry.
Inspired by the Kiowa love song tradition, of which I have long known and admired. Meant to be sung.

https://folklife-media.si.edu/docs/festival/program-book-articles/FESTBK1973_03.pdf
  Sep 5 Christian Bixler
Nadia
If you are willing to brave
the drunken wasps, the thorns,
and sneaky little spiders,
you can find
dark, juicy blackberries
In the most unlikely places


NCL August 2019
to be held
three lines advice
and the horizon
the grey
of this tin figure
wet tile
a likeness
three concentric rings
and a tortoise shell
Seen in the round face of a dust cap.
for a moment
ripples under gloss
a declaration
Tree rings seen in a desk.
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