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 Oct 2018 cosmo naught
A lover asked his beloved,
Do you love yourself more
than you love me?

The beloved replied,
I have died to myself
and I live for you.

I’ve disappeared from myself
and my attributes.
I am present only for you.

I have forgotten all my learning,
but from knowing you
I have become a scholar.

I have lost all my strength,
but from your power
I am able.

If I love myself
I love you.
If I love you
I love myself.
 Oct 2018 cosmo naught
The moon has become a dancer
at this festival of love.
This dance of light,

This sacred blessing,
This divine love,
beckons us
to a world beyond
only lovers can see
with their eyes of fiery passion.

They are the chosen ones
who have surrendered.
Once they were particles of light
now they are the radiant sun.

They have left behind
the world of deceitful games.
They are the privileged lovers
who create a new world
with their eyes of fiery passion.
You don't want to hear it,
but I still think of him.

When he turns his little feet
in circles, circles, circles,
and waves those jerky fists
I think of him.

When he squeals with delight and leaps
into the arms of everyone
who reaches for him
I think of him.

At night, when he won't sleep
until I rock and sing and
sing and rock again
and falls asleep, still moving,
always moving
I think of him.

I think of how
his feet might have been a
constant circle, too.

I think of how
he would have stared lovingly
at his own little fists.

I think of how
he would have squealed in delight
while the Church passed him around.

I think of how,
when they put him in my arms
he was already asleep
even though
I hadn't sung him
any lullabies.
For my first still baby. And for my second wiggling joy.
it's familiar and new
how can that be true?
A succulent can thrive
on care given once,
maybe twice, yearly.

I love them because
they can still capture
my attention even when

Petals wrapt in fibers
and furs, spines daring
me to poke and ****.

I love them because
they are a lot like me.

Fun to look at.
A pain to hold.
How vain
to think
that I’m the only one
deserving of your breaths.

Not presently,
but before,
and future.

Presently, too, I concede.

If arrogance is driving
you to me,
or to us,
as in those that were,
like a taxi
with the most gracious pilot
politely asking you to fasten your belt
to tether you to the busted seats,
then I would be happy to have it break down

in my driveway.
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