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the words don't work
unless you put them
under your tongue,
let them dissolve
and become
your new
truth.

you can't just
lick them casually,
heart on lockdown,
guarded by mind,
******* detector
set on high.

the power is in belief.

when you put down skeptical,
suddenly, you make room
for the mystical.

don't tell me
you don't remember
precisely how that goes...

that was the miracle:
it wasn't just what I said to you.
I'm sure you'd heard such things
prior to that luminous transference.

it was how you - trusted - exactly then
to eat the words I put gently
in the palm of your blooming hand.

and just then,
they became true
for me and you
like ****!

and there We were,
making magic, my dear,
with these exquisitely parallel
inversely proportional tongues,
with direct connect to hearts
starting to beat as one.

we shall create as we speak -

but only what
we also believe.
when it feels safer
than love

...

spoiler alert:
it's not
coaxed by
billow blowing
my back toward
double doors

bloomy blush palms
grace cold chromium
transfixed yet still
slightly froze

by their magnitude
stellar statuesque
ornate etchings
on the outside

engravings tonging
somethings subtly
warbling up vertebra
no longer numb

and I
remember
this hand
this voice
this vibration
this harmony

a fifth or a third
resonant progression
of ordered chords
this same old song
never heard, yet
- known -

buried, now begging
eternal womb
to be born

the want
wavers fingers
in front of the bell
until the know grows
too large to hold
behind stately doors

craving light, space, time
to stretch and unfold

dew-spun carbon
beyond the threshold
I wish
I could give you
experiences of mine:

the paranoia
outside my apartment
looking over my shoulder
scanning for the energy
I felt on me

the guilt
sinking in my gut
the moment laughter
escaped my mouth
on the tails of hell
and I swear
I felt shatter

and that time on the beach...
so many strange happenings
my energy was off the charts
though so confused, and it's safe to say
I'm still processing the karmic details
converging upon that crux of fate

but, most of all
I’d like to show you
the aftermath of my
kundalini intro

how knowing
what is possible
never went away

although he fell away
(to the tune of, I love you -
but like my little sister
)
into the arms of a co-worker
after I helped him get hired

I got a front-row seat
to watch him fall in love
with the girl he'd marry
my intermissions
were in the bathroom
churning tears out quick
then plastering on a veneer
of I-don’t-care

my heartbreak was knowing
that I went there solo
and to him it was just
a good lay, disposable

I was in love
alone

with how I let go and opened
not hiding anything
because my intent to love
was absolutely pure
for the first time

his wasn't

after that I longed
to connect to the whole
in the arms of another
but it never came

not like that
not soul activation
not seeing the all as brethren
and my heart of compassion
reaching out to everyone
no judgment
just love

maybe I had
traces of magic
but mostly just
caring closeness
cloaking the lonely
flesh and bones

but God
wasn’t there

can't say I didn't enjoy
some of it, but my soul...
my soul always knew
always left hungry
not overflowing

until you

and I found out
it can happen
without knowing
without touching
without history
without building
much of anything
just these blueprints
already existing
reciprocity in seeing
intent so pure
and

words, words, words

the just-right ones
that pick soul locks
and fling doors ajar
not too hot, not too cold
that baby bear dose

I guess
the thing I'm trying to impart,
the reason I'm telling you this
is because I want you to know
I could never erase it

not after 15 years plus
not after the prettiest skins
not with substituting substances
for the real drug that is purest love

it was a gift
when the vivid memories
finally blurred into vague

but still,
the knowing, the hunger
never filled, never left

I wanted to
come home to God
but not like that, not alone

but with someone
riding shotgun...

and if you stumble across
that instant energy
again

you may just run swiftly
in the other direction, like I did
when I met someone
who reminded me of him
that night at the bar
same blue eyes
same major even

in hindsight,
I’m not sure if we had
instant connection, or I had
an instant memory and projection
then fled due to the pain
he awakened in me

the truth is -
the pain has to be dealt with
before we can let anyone in
who truly stirs our purity

and I’m fairly certain
it’s part of why I went cold
chilling our morning after
nebula explosions

and based on
the frequency of these things
I don't think there will ever be
another story quite like ours
where souls converged first
then imaginations merged
building a world upon
energy and dreams
no skin to be seen

there is - nothing -
more beautiful
than that

a winged thing, holy
undoubtedly worthy
of worship, out the gate

and I’m praying inside
to author on the outside
what I know is possible
if we do the work
and believe

stepping over
incinerated expectations
scaling serifed intentions
where real living, breathing
human possibility exists

upon grateful knees
for what has come and
whatever may be

in this cosmos of ours
that is truly

the rarest thing
Q:
with so-called God pulsing your palm,
why the need to wedge between
backward and forward covert
kamikaze escape plans?

A:
you lost your faith
I am
fistful
scarful
dreadful
mouthful
constellation of burnt
sore spots connected festering

but, also
breathful
dreamful
brainful
blissful
lapful
lifeful
string of lit brights
prismatic as Northern
sky candied neons

and just
being with you
made me glow
in dingiest dim

by you being you
and me being me
in unison

we can cherry bomb
the blackest sky
with your hand
in mine
I am standing
at the mirror

loving every scarred
unruly thread unraveling
in this breathing tapestry

it wasn’t my fault
what happened to me
my patterns were scored
long before I knifed them in
over and over again

picking people and paths
to validate my false hypotheses

unworthy kept me from
letting you love every one
of these holy spastic molecules

until I loosed grip
on erroneous
self-loathing

and I am so sorry
I really needed you
but I couldn’t let you
be there for me

because I wasn’t

and now,
here I am…

scoping silver under glass
making silly faces for me
blowing kisses at myself
and giving a little wink
over my shoulder

as I walk out
able to embrace
the wild unknowns
that await me
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