I have left the imprint
of my body

on your wild grasses
under your wild hedges

I have slept the sweet
sleep of an embering fire

in your arms
and known

your lips on mine
as a sweetness of the

dancing rain on leaves
your soulhands have

blended me together
like the scent of meadowflowers

sweetening the air
and I have been embraced and

enearthed
in the ground of your sweet being

been received by and have received
your sweet soul Love

you have made of me
a meuse

an imprint in wild grasses
under wild hedges

in your generous and generating
heart


c. 2017 Roberta Compton Rainwater

in the icy swirl
          of deep-inhale
            I reach down inside
                      to darkest
       heated flesh-fabric
removing the clothing
of my soul,
feeling the layers
                slowly  undone
                      the flay
                        of my own fleece
                          the peeling
                    of my own pelt
            penetrating
                through tissue,
                     a journey to the
                          deep heart of me,
                         cut in one clean move
                         and yet, like a miracle
                  there is
             no pain
                   just magnet-connect
                     beyond the cusp
                            of words
                              that curl from our
                                             tongues
                                      rising up in
                      latticed affirmations
                    a cleansing in frost
a constant, aquamarine renewal
and there is no past
no future
      just this prism
           of crystal liquid jewels
      flowing in
gentle,
         cellular music
             straight into the strands        
                    of our veins
and I miss you
like you have gone
on the long winter hunt
my longing splayed out
like an animal skin on
                    four poles
its tendons stretched
beyond measure
yet holding fast
with a roof over my head,
                    I acknowledge
             my restlessness
I am my own
       hunter-forager,
         both searching and found,
                     gathering up bits  
               of velocity
stroking the ribbons
of passion
stoking the fires of my
              heart and hearth
protecting what is us
like a lioness
for we are overflowing
with both strength
         and tenderness
              our own bones
ingredients of the wild soup              
of our feral union
of our constant rebirth
our very dna
          weaving itself
like heartstrings
               in the rush      
of
       time

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MPMEufMuyks
  Dec 1 Lora Lee
Midnight Rain

in the midst of all the chaos
a hand pressed into mine
and for a moment it felt as if time had
slowed down to the millisecond

and within that frame
it was just you and me
just your eyes meeting mine,
keeping me somewhere deep within them
the whole world  slipped away from
beneath my feet as that moment
ended and you vanished back into
the chaos

i will spend the rest of my life
writing about that one second
i will spend the rest of my life
grieving a love i had and didn't all
at the same time

  Nov 30 Lora Lee
Vicki

the day is hung
on the swivel
of the globe and the skies
are in forever cahoots
with time

the night swings in
on the down-low
not one second too soon
so beautiful though
the clouds hiding,
the moon smiling. i feel
no more fear.  i cannot see

so easily
the globe swiveling
and watch the clouds march
in mirthful endeavor.
after dark,
i think
i can live forever.

  Nov 29 Lora Lee
Akira Chinen

Let me lay down in the bed of poetry
you keep underneath
the soft curves of your skin
and let me sleep in
until it is time to dream again

let your smile be the sun
and the moon and the sky
forever painted black and blue
and bruised with the brush strokes  
of love lost and found
and fought for and kept

weave the magic in your pulse
into the madness of my heartbeat
and spill your words of blood and anguish
and sorrow and triumph
into the silence of the conversation
between the color and wonder
of your eyes gazing hypnotically
into the horror and the void
and monsters living
in the dark pools of mine

build bridges between
the broken pieces of me
and the stars you keep
under your skirt
and we will live in our own universe
where everything hurt
has a place to find comfort
and every comfort knows
the way back
from the place where we hurt

where dreams know that nightmares
are part of the stage and the play
and that life even in death
must always go on
and should we forget our lines
we just need to listen
to the song of the leaves
and the words in the wind

we will be the forest
and the bears and the wolfs
and the dragons and the clouds
and the fire and the howls
and the fairy and the tale
and the language we make up
as we write poetry underneath
the beds of our skin

  Nov 28 Lora Lee
Vicki

so i will bend.
i will stretch
in my kitchen
doing a holiday
woman's yoga,
find zen
using the edge
of the sink
as a ballet barre,
turn on NPR
and dance
a dirty robot
to Mozart.
i can bend far
when i can
relax and during
the toughest
of times stand
guard in the good
fight, being smart
by being kind,
breathing out
toxins for
fresh oxygen,
breath saved
from wasting
words when
i am extending
into an ivy
muse
of long curve
and fluid
source,
soothing both
muscular
pain and
my heart's
bruise points,
on point
to hurt, to ache,
to miss people,
to ease
my hinges
and joints. maybe
a spot of wine
after i have
filled the kitchen
with a cooked
bird and my
good vibes.
these are times
to remember.

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