cruci-fix

The moment we met my heart knew
i'm supposed to love and protect you
A different message came to my head
Better to flee and neglect you instead
Invisible robots cried "DANGER DANGER"
Best cling to confines of kindly stranger
My hormones cry to break the tie
"Fuck her breathless until we die!"
What's a lonely, quixotic fool to do?
Martyr myself to nurture you?

degrees

Do you ever reach out for someone not there?
Dying by degrees in a world that can't care?
Seeking truth, but too broken to dare

drowning2

All this pining and clowning...
Lost in a lonely sea
Far better avoid me
In truth, i'm only drowning

left-handed self-aggrandizement

I have never spoken the sentence "I think i overdressed"
Nor uttered the words "Can i use that as a deduction?"
This life so alarmingly free
of clocks, forms, lines
Bills, jealousies, deadlines
Unapologetic, uncompromised
Unafraid to be despised
Perhaps the most centered person you'll meet
For what it's worth
(which ain't much)
Mayhap the most wise and gentle
For what it's worth
(which ain't much)
As a product of a fear-based culture of psycho-sexual repression
i assure you my relative wonderfulness
compared to a psychologically healthy humyn
(which you nor i have ever, ever seen)
is akin to being a millipede
with only 999 broken legs
Watch me wave that one good leg - WHEEEEEE!

rich people

Rich people are assholes
I don't mean to sound emotional
I'm simply being scientific
In socio-economic studies
rich people tested lower than any demographic
for compassion and empathy
Were these people deficient before being rich?
No
Are they deficient after they lose their wealth?
No
Rich people are assholes
Are there any rich people reading this?
FUCK YOU
I don't mean to sound emotional

time

We invented time to know who should be where
But mostly, to measure how much we care

duels of fooality

CLAIM YOUR VICTIMHOOD
GET OVER YOURSELF
CLAIM YOUR VICTIMHOOD
GET OVER YOURSELF
No wonder we're such insufferable sods
Our pathways to healing at perfect odds
Our biggest imperatives at this juncture
concoct contradiction's perpetual puncture
Healing hobbles and often feels worse
as wisdom wobbles along in a hearse
Claim your victimhood, nay rage!
Not a scourge, but the boon of our age
As these veils divest from our eyes
revealing such squealing terrors and lies
Each of us degraded and desensitized
Our very humynity anesthetized
Barons and thieves, victims the same
Exploiter and exploited, all pawns in our game
Our cleverness infinitely unabating
has created a species self-immolating
Perhaps our fate hermetically sealed
when our categorical catch-22 is revealed
The mutilated mass amass scraps from our table
Those who might save us are always least able
You can't hoard wealth and compassion too
The rich are bankrupt, ever and always true
Transcending tirades of universal isolation
requires a revolutionary consecration
And yet, and yet...here's the rub of regret
Our innocence exists in tandem
with self-absorption non-random
Yet crass cruelty ain't pure abomination
(when it's an act of self-preservation)
Learning how to love something not named YOU
An art lost for a decamillenia or two
Get over yourself, blithering blatherskites
Pull head from hiney, besotted bag o' shites!
Claim victimhood whilst dislodgin' noggin from ass?
In simultaneity, a cultural cootie grass
Both essential to homo sapiens resurrection
Twin markers to our redemptive direction
Whomever finds this fulcrum's balance point
The greatest savant we'll ever anoint

keep grousin'

Hear the poets bitch
Bitch bitch bitch
They got a social itch
Itch itch itch
A red tie fever pitch
Pitch pitch pitch
Hear the poets bitch
Bitch bitch bitch
Now, i'm not stating it's just bloviating
Many make a salient point or three
But all this bawling and critical caterwauling
is a little chicken little to me
Are our memories misty? The "good old days" were a travesty
A parade of oppression, repression, and pain
Though we're still morally astray and the mountaintop far away
each generation is a bit more humane
But lest you remain a sour skeptical
here's a humyn progress roll call
Three centuries past, but one constitutional democracy
Today that number's almost two out of three
Three centuries past, slavery legal in all lands save one
Three decades past, official slave states became none
Three centuries past, execution the law of every land
Today, half the world says "no, that will not stand"
Three centuries past, torture a universal condition
Today, half the planet has torture prohibition
One century past, universal suffrage zero
Today non-universal is a disappearing dodo
Three decades past a husband could be a legal raper
Today humyn rights sweep the globe (at least on paper)
Planetary poverty percentage an all-time low
Violent death a pale shadow of long ago
Two centuries past, nine of ten with illiteracy cursed
That scandalous statistic now nearly reversed
God gave man dominion over "lesser races"?
Science de-pantsed such intellectual disgraces
God said man over womyn holds sway?
Science laughed that one away
God gave man dominion over other creatures?
Such self-serving bullshit is dying, even among preachers
But our retching and kvetching is easily understood
For BAD gets better press than good
And a genetic disposition to negativity
enhances our survivability
In an arena of graceful gymnasts we fixate on stumbles
That keeps hairless apes alive when lion tummy rumbles
Yet today's conservative, so stodgy and shifty
is still MORE liberal than a liberal from 1950
But keep percolating, keep agitating
Keep screaming for justice, and no more waiting!
For today's neglected conscience storms
become tomorrow's taken-for-granted norms

magic icosahedron

Dear magic icosahedron,

Are you a ridiculous, superstitious talisman?

AS I SEE IT, YES

Is astrology crap?

SIGNS POINT TO YES

Is belief in an afterlife just a reflection of our fear?

IT IS DECIDEDLY SO

Will i ever be loved for who i really am?

BETTER NOT TELL YOU NOW

Would i want to know what people really think of me?

MY REPLY IS NO

If i always tell the truth, will i get laid?

MY SOURCES SAY NO

Will the National Organization of Women stage a non-violent revolution, and establish the world's first totally egalitarian, democratic society?

Cannot predict NOW

Have i missed out on the most amazing relationships of my life, because of their insecurity or mine?

YES - DEFINITELY

Are most of my relationships crap, because i'm lonely and settle for less?

MOST LIKELY

Am i fooling myself that my best days are ahead?

YOU MAY RELY ON IT

Will i die bloody and screaming?

OUTLOOK GOOD

If i take off my shoes and pants, will i be able to count to twenty-one?

DON'T COUNT ON IT

Is there a god?

REPLY HAZY, TRY AGAIN

Is there a god?

ASK AGAIN LATER

Is there a god?

CONCENTRATE AND ASK AGAIN

Is there a god??

IT IS CERTAIN

Are you fucking with me?

WITHOUT A DOUBT

If you took away my vanity and conceit, would there be anything left?

OUTLOOK NOT SO GOOD

Am i going to have sex with someone reading this?

YES

Are they going to have sex with me?

VERY DOUBTFUL

profit

There are no parameters to profit's need
Conscience anathema in the imperative of greed
Profit smiles at a starving child
Profit delights in daughters defiled
Profit promulgates mayhem and blood
Corpses moldering in the mud
Profit consumes earth and skies
Left lingering, only lies and alibis

the preda tree

I'm accidentally social, an intro/extrovert they say
I dismiss most with "Mean or stupid go AWAY"
Yet my bearing is brilliant, my vibe quite fun
I'm not quest-obsessed by "the one, the one"
Impressively gentle, excessively humble
A great sad movie makes me crumble
Thus i think the reason i'm ever-lonely
is my refusal to climb the preda tree

I'm no adonis, though not repulsive
I'm a nurturer, i know how to give
It's true my views buck the status quo
Maybe i come from the moon Io
Personal poverty as protest philosophy?
My theoretical embrace of polyamory?
Yet i think the reason i'm ever-lonely
is my refusal to perch in the preda tree

How many first kisses left unsmooched
because of gentle sobriety?
How many shags unsnagged
because "it's not right for thee"?
How many times did i walk away
if i knew i'd be unable to stay?
Yes, may-hap the reason i'm ever-lonely
is my refusal to play in the preda tree

Just play the game - no no, i wouldn't
Flatter, manipulate - oh no, i couldn't
Give a good chase, wage a good woo
Something i don't know how to do
I've always felt like a refugee
Perhaps from the 24th century
So i think the reason i'm ever-lonely
is my refusal to swing in the preda tree

baby hole stroll

(ending A to be soon framed on the wall of every Planned Parenthood in America!)

One indolent day a baby hole
floated forth and went for a stroll
Baby poles were bouncing around
searching for that baby hole sound
Baby hole sashayed for a few
Smelled one so right, knew just what to do
She pulled that pole so deep inside
for an hour-long baby pole ride
When it exploded she held on tight
Pulsation elation, shudders of delight
Pole deflated and sighed to slumber
Hole floated on, leaving her number
There was no scolding, nor tongue-wagging
There was no controlling, cajoling, or bragging
There was no nervousness, nor any fear
No anxiety o'er the coming calendar year
No paths upside down, or dire demands made
No lives inside out, or grasping games played
ENDING A:
Pole and hole harmonious inside
for baby hole had her fallopian tubes tied!
ENDING B:
To what do pole and hole owe harmonious thanks?
Industrial pollution has made pole shoot blanks

We Don't Need Them

(the anti-poverty anthem)
Who controls the cash
Who's got the bucks
Who tries to make
everybody shmucks
They need us
They need us
They need us
They need us
But we don't need them

Who lives in mansions
on silken sheets
while somebody's child
dies in the streets
They need us
They need us
They need us
They need us
But we don't need them

Who pays the taxes
and buys all their stuff
Who keeps the gears turning
Who's had enough
They need us
They need us
They need us
They need us
But we don't need them

Who wants to be free
Who wants a fair share
Compassion born again
It's time to care
They need us
They need us
They need us
They need us
But we don't need them

Tired of prison
Tired of debt
Tired of being tired
Tired of regret
They need us
They need us
They need us
They need us
But we don't need them

Tired of pollution
and prostitution
Ready for radical
redistribution
They need us
They need us
They need us
They need us
But we don't need them

Who's just as smart
Just as funny
Who's got style
but no damn money
They need us
They need us
They need us
They need us
But we don't need them

BS

Inconsolable, inconsonant creatures we
Bags of bad socialization and hormonal insanity

michael hathaway, 1941-2019

In my first two years in California, i made one true friend.
A friend you know will be there. You'll always be connected.
I loved you, michael.
And in many ways, hardly knew you.
This is truer of more friendships than we realize. With michael especially, for in the year that i knew him, we spent more time in the living moment than in anecdotal sharing. Fleeting references to the past only...
It can be singularly bittersweet to learn the details of a friend's life, only after they've died. I was enabled in this by his memoir, "The Possible Happiness of Life". The last time we were together, he eagerly gave me the book. He was so happy to have finished it, after years of procrastination.
At a glance, we might have seemed unlikely companions. Me, a roaring rational empiricist. He, a new age spiritualist.
But the areas where we converged were ever more expansive than our divergences. Saving the world, finding the best in humynity, embracing the moment, sensualist exuberance...michael was one of the most huggable people you'd find.
After he died, of natural causes in a friend's chair, his unread book stared at me for months, partly because the spiritual aspects filled me with trepidation, and also because grief has its own agenda. But what a delight it turned out to be, with minimal spiritual ramblings. He approached that part of his life with joy, but perhaps understood that there are some aspects of spirituality that don't lend themselves to words, so one ought not even try (if only all spiritualists could locate such modesty). He never preached, and never stopped being genuinely curious.
The book unfolds in tales of a life...and what a life! A child of ultra-progressive parents, he attended Stanford, the Free University of Berlin, and then Harvard, before dropping out to volunteer for eugene mccarthy. After that, it was environmental activism in northern California and around the globe, an extensive retreat in Kathmandu, and sojourns on the greek island Hydra, where he renovated a 400 year-old ruin. He lived in Berlin before the Wall was completed, in a spiritual nature commune in Sonoma, and in San Francisco as a gay man during the AIDS holocaust.
Throughout, he continually manifested the ethos LIVE - CELEBRATE!
We met as housemates, in a little home in San Pablo, my first California residence. Our flatmates were a rwandan diplomatic student, and an affable fellow plagued by obsessive/compulsive bipolar disorder. At its best, it was a haven for camaraderie and curiosity. At its worst, hellish. Not a bad metaphor for life, i suppose. I became liberated before michael, and returned to help him move out (i helped him move twice his last year). After that, we got together every couple months, for companionship, cuisine, and maybe an episode of Star Trek.
Such a supportive, loving man...who had a romantic/sexual life more active than mine, even in his late seventies. Perhaps like me, he never found the great love of his life...and perhaps like me, he knew that was a silly metric by which to define a life. Yet i don't doubt that, again like me, he might have wished otherwise. At the end of his life, he was beloved by many, yet always as a presence who floated in and out of people's lives. Is he more of a possible mirror for me than i realized?
But life is what it is. All you can do is try to greet each day with integrity and hope.
Some questions, i'll now never be able to ask. Given his compassion for all life, his "zero population growth" advocacy and awareness of the environmental disaster we're visiting upon ourselves by trying to keep billions of humans eating other animals, i'm bufuddled over why he never became vegan.
I was enriched by knowing him, and diminished by his death. He lived a long life almost exactly as he wished, and at the end was as sharp and independent as ever. He died believing death was not the end.
A pretty happy life...and that's nothing at which to sneeze.
Thank you, sweet michael.
I'll always miss you.

maya the magic papaya

Maya the magic papaya
had a perspicacious pedigree
She was born on a bough, born on a bough
born on a bough of a bayberry tree
The bayberries gave her minimal approval
They circulated a petition of removal
Maya gave a blushing smile
Meditating on mean folk a while
A prickly pear named lou
shouted "What the hell are you??"
A crab apple called abu
opined "A mutant honeydew?"
A pomegranate named janet
thought maya from some far planet
A jujube named haboob
called her a redneck rube
A java plum named haversham
labeled maya a lousy bum
A muskmelon started yellin'
that maya looked a likely felon
An ackee named jacqui
said "I wanna give her a smackee"
A mangosteen named armaleen
spat at maya and caused a scene
A lychee named aneeki
said "She looks kinda sweet to me"
Maya and aneeki jumped to the ground
Soon they were rolling and playing around
They plopped in a stream and sailed to a river
Aneeki kissed maya and made her quiver
They soon met a murder of magic crows
and flew away to worlds nobody knows

trickle trickle

I deliver furniture in the swankier parts of the Bay
Roaming the retreats of the rich most every day
Mountain lairs, architectural wonders
Mundane monstrosities, tasteless blunders
We went to Atherton to pick up a bed
Some simple reupholstery is what they said
for a venerated rapper and his vapid songbird bride
Their pool house had chandeliers inside
Fame he'd found as a poet of the mean streets
Now his guest bed has 2000 thread count sheets
We started disassembling, and to our dismay
the headboard was nine feet tall, i'd say
The cloth pristine, but they'd wearied of the color
They wanted something a bit less duller
Their personal assistant said with a cluck
"It weighs 400 lbs, please trot it out to your truck"
My partner and i heaved this monstrous load
Our parking space half a mile down the road
Then the diva bride gave a gasp and cry
"I've turned my ankle", she said with a sigh
The assistants fanned her and fluttered about
as the rapper released a stressed-out shout
"Lay her on the headboard!", he cried with a shriek
"The platinum golf cart don't arrive 'til next week!"
"Take her to the main house!", he roared like a lord
The assistants eased her up and called the switchboard
We struggled on our way, with neck veins popping
We requested a rest, but they'd have no stopping
We unloaded at the infirmary, then they shooed us on
When we got to our truck, everyone was gone
Now i'm not greedy, i don't like to whine
but perhaps some little tip was in line?
I've seen the rich with insider's eyes
though this moral might not be a surprise
Old rich and new rich seem much the same to me
They've all got the urologists's view of a trickle-down economy

dami

Never before, nevermore
No lover shall you stand before
Unbounded in what lies in store...
Your sanctuary to slide inside
A space to play, laugh, and hide
No desire or dream we'll deride...

Never before, nevermore
will you get back all you give
No negotiation, stipulation, calculation
Never before have i known how to live
Zero protection, zero pretense
Kneeling naked, kneeling negated
Any guile, every defense
erased, irrelevant, eradicated

Am i just clowning
or more likely drowning
Frozen from a world so cold
Where nothing is given
and everything needs forgiven
Every child's tear bought and sold

Never before, nevermore
A crystalline crash on your shore
Coalesced from the mist of time
Some pre-history when vulnerability wasn't a crime
Transcending modernity's barbaric game
This battered heart pulsing your name

skipping-touchstone ripples

(a follow-up to https://nakedmeadow.blogspot.com/2020/04/touchstones-of-not-mined.html)
To deeper delve into the impregnation fantasies touched upon in "Touchstones"...they exist alongside more rational impulses, like the wish to find a womyn who is serenely assured that having children is no part of her future. To meet such a one, and have her desire me for a season or always...that's a beautiful dream, too. Probably one infinitely more sensible than fertility fantasies. I suspect it's not specifically a baby that is the embodiment of my primal desire. I think it's rather the moment of being inside a fecund (and feral) womyn who wants my seed with every fiber of her being...to be in that moment and claim it with purest exultation...
That must be so, because one of my mental wanderings the past year has been the thought that i might be infertile, as  i've never gotten a womyn pregnant. Which could mean nothing, as i've never tried, yet it's an interesting possibility, one that would have mortified me once, but now i think i could fully embrace it. Low motility/count? Partay!
Which is not to say there's no babylust left. It's always been there, in a hazy, remorseful way, and it seems to be simmering ever more searingly, for biological-clock reasons.
I suppose there's a nugget of perverse truth in the Idiocracy-aphorism that the people who shouldn't, do, and the people who should, don't.
So much feeling squelched in this culture of alienation. So many desires blunted, connections denied, tears uncried...you can see it in the eyes, all the half-lives we live...
Find me, oh sensible womyn peacefully past the prospect of parentage. Save me!

coronadating

Since corona, i've been dating muslim wimyn like crazy. It's great! With the faces, and the fabric, and the...

listless

When you are breathless, then shall i breathe again
When you are mindless, then shall i become sane
When you are fearless, then shall i be unafraid
When you are helpless, then shall no more games be played
When you are rudderless, then shall i wrap you 'round my till
When you are guileless, then shall i at long last be still
When you are remorseless, then shall i kneel at your feet
When you are nameless, then shall we finally meet

naked flower

Have you ever landed on a flower
A naked flower
heart
brain
legs
spread
I daresay...not

And if you ever should
you'd certainly
bungle it

vapor

I cannot destroy your demons
but i might put them in a net
I cannot heal your wounds
but the breaks we can set
I cannot make you whole
but i can make you forget
There is no panacea
for the pains you'll never sever
Insecurity, fear, guilt, aggression
will be yours ever, however
You may have my head, as long as it thrills you
You may have my heart, as long as it stills you
You may have my heat, as long as it fills you
The rest
is vapor...

four girlfriends

I've got four girlfriends
but i'd give 'em up for you
(if love-hoarding appeals
to your darwinian view)

Radhika gives me rubbing
Bethany brings blank checks
Suki is silly and smart
and perzsika is pure sex

But i'll drop 'em all for you
if that's what you want me to do
Though they might love you too
(suki would never let you be blue)

And i AM a bit high-maintenance
A massage plus two-hour sex each day
And you REALLY might love perszika
(i'll be frank; she goes either way)

But i'll give 'em up for you
if your caring precludes sharing
I only want eleven kids
Are you ready? Are you raring?

undone

Most done things can't be undone
This world we've made is not one

feminist animalist communicationalist writer blues

I can't say sissy
I can't say pussy
I sure can't say ham-handed
I'm not complaining
Though maybe slow-laneing
We all must pay for what man did

I can't say beefy
(though i can say queefy!)
I can't call a woman a girl
Cunt i can't say
'Less i say it a new way
An empowered pussy pearl!

I can't say reel 'er in
Or dropped the ball again
Or "My oh my, a sausage party i spy!"
I can't say "hand of fate"
It's "envelop", not penetrate
And don't get me started on "testify"

Do the things i can't utter
Make my writing stutter?
Not if i'm clever and candid
I love what i am
and i don't miss ham
(though i do kinda miss ham-handed)

failed song 4

(I liked this when i wrote it, but was already growing past the normalcy of the chords i came up with, except the bridge...it had a killer bridge. I fleetingly considered making stranger chords, but unrelateable lyrics [abstract, confusing] killed this one.)

EVIL ME
If i were in a sci fi accident
and became evil me
This is what would happen
This is what the world would see

If i were my evil twin
i'd sterilize all the men
To stop overpopulation
and planet-wide desecration
Every male except the one you see
If i were evil me
If i were evil me
i'd make a cloning facility
How amazing would that be?
A million of me - wheeeee!

If i were evil me
i'd put rich folk on a boat at sea
and maroon them
with no technology
Millions of mansions for the homeless
instantly empty and free
Heave all the heartless hoarders
from our humyn community

If i were my evil twin
i'd do a lotta rapin'
Except i wouldn't, because even evil me
is mortified by male brutality
So i'd probably just make every womyn i see
comfort and cuddle me
Unless they wanted to flee
Then i'd just rub their belly
But i'd rub evilly
if i were evil me

If i were evil me
I'd destroy every farm factory
I'd crush animal cruelty
if i were evil me
If i were my evil twin
you'd never wear clothes again
Nudity is compulsory
with evil me
If i were evil me
i'd set every prisoner free
Or maybe that's good me
Life is so fucking confusing!

If i were my evil double
i really wouldn't be any trouble
Because nobody's evil you see
Only lost and lonely

If i were evil me
i'd declare by imperial decree
everybody must love me
if i were evil me

to boldly glow...

(In coronaisolation, my creative focus has ranged from saving the world to utter triviality...like this! Wait, who am i kidding - this idea predates inshelteration.)

It's time to answer the question that has plagued humynity since we left our caves. Who should every Trek character have ended up with, romantically?
Mind you, at its core the question is unworthy of consideration, because it feeds into the life-denying notion that one ought define oneself by romantic status/partnering. Poppyrot! Some need no partner, some need several. Some relationships are perfect for a moment, some for a season, some for a lifetime.
That said, let's get silly.
WHOM THEY SHOULD HAVE ENDED UP WITH
ORIGINAL SERIES
UHURA - I'd say the swahili crew member from "The Man Trap"...but that was little more than a projection of her psyche. Of course, one could argue that neurobiologically, ALL other people are simply projections of our psyche. That kiss with kirk was tantalizing, and the scotty flirtation worked, but...let's go with the projection!
SCOTTY - Uhura. I contradict myself? Get over it.
SULU - whomever he damn well wants
CHEKOV - Yeoman landon from "The Apple". So sweet it should be called "The Candy Apple".
MCCOY - Natira. Get back to your asteroid, doctor.
KIRK - Miramanee? Edith? I'll take the easy way out, as they died (though in an even playing field, miramanee trumps all). The winner is...elaan! You know, of Troyius. Are you saying YOU wouldn't watch their spin-off? It's drama. It's comedy! It's a humdinger.
SPOCK - The first stumper. Leila or zarabeth? Isn't both together an option? Happiness or hormones. No, that's an unfair reduction...you never saw spock so poignantly, interconnectedly alive as in "All Our Yesterdays". It's zarabeth.
NEXT GENERATION
WESLEY - Ensign robin lefler. Sigh.
WORF - sorry deanna, it's k'ehleyr
DATA - Tasha. He's smart enough to overcome the obstacles.
BEVERLY - finn, from "The High Ground"
GEORDI - leah brahms, remove head from hiney
WILL - imzadi
DEANNA - ditto (no, that's not data's long-lost nephew)
JEAN-LUC - I so want to say ardra, but...anij. Super sigh me.
DEEP SPACE NINE
BEN - they had two brilliant options, alternate universe jennifer and kira (don't tell me there wasn't something there in the pilot), and instead they went with...i can't even say her name
QUARK - Grilka!
JADZIA - a rotating roster, with lenara ("Rejoined") the constant
KIRA - shakaar
EZRI - Kellin, from "The Siege of AR-558". Worf or bashir? No no no no no...
O'BRIEN - A lug wrench? Anything but keiko.
BASHIR - sarina
ODO - kira
WORF - Sorry jadzia, it's...leeta! Am i not genius?
VOYAGER
TUVOK - with apologies to his alleged wife, it's noss from "Gravity"
HARRY - with apologies to tom, it's derran tal from "The Disease"
KES - tom
TOM - rain, from "Future's End" (after kes dies of old age)
NEELIX - dexa (she deserves better, but it gets him off the ship)
CHAKOTAY - b'elanna
B'ELANNA - chakotay
JANEWAY - Chakotay. Let them figure it out, as long as he stays away from...
SEVEN - the doctor
THE DOCTOR - seven
ENTERPRISE
MALCOLM - um, er...
PHLOX - crewman cutler
HOSHI - travis
TRAVIS - hoshi
TRIP - Private cole, from "Harbinger". Or phlox's wife. That red alien! Anyone but...
T'POL - archer
ARCHER - t'pol (aren't you impressed that i didn't say "or riann...or capt. hernandez...")

Live long and canoodle.

touchstones of the not-mined

Excruciatingly beautiful moments of possibility, in a long and lonely life.

Two doorways to intense, lasting physical and emotional intimacy.

Two moments from which i walked away.

In my mind, ever to return.

L and E...

Why, among my many dozens of romances/almost-romances, do they burn brightest? In fantasy, their brilliance nearly obscuring the shadows of remorse.

Did i choose wrongly, or just damage myself to save myself? The freedom and non-materialism i've cherished, the life of artistic creation...those might have been compromised by giving myself to either. They were single mothers. Cleaving to them would have meant acquiescing to jealousy and possessiveness...a concession i might have made. Cleaving to them would have meant an enormous alteration in my finances, which might have well-nigh erased "me".

Perhaps that's unfair. Perhaps i ran from even exploring the possibility. I gave E no chance to understand my fears.

But perhaps they were the two truly profound self-sacrifices of my life. To explore is to bond, and how much more cutting might my departures have been after months or more of ecstatic intimacy?

Are they haunted as well? Likely not, thanks to me. But hopefully a tiny bit, once in a long lonely while. Do i dream that someday we may come around again? I do.

There are other wimyn in masturbatory memories, but none so prominent. The deepest reason is my longing to once more feel a womyn give herself as they did, without hesitation or negotiation. To have that opportunity to be the most beautiful thing that ever happened to someone, but this time to dive in...

Even though it might still be calamitous for my path.

I want it so much my chest hurts.

The other quality they shared, is the instantaneousness with which they gave themselves. In my fevered dreams, that's more powerful than after a prolonged period of getting to know each other. That headlong rush...with both, it was literally hours after meeting, that our naked hearts came together. Such impetuousness was probably uncommon for them, even before single parenthood.

With E, it was only later that i understood the fullness of her desire. I had been hired to help move her into her new home. After the others dispersed, we stayed together. Hours of sharing led to sleeping together...the most gentle holding and touching, which blossomed into sexuality. I held back from penetration, believing in taking things slowly.

Years later, she said that night was like holding an angel.

L and i first met after months of e-mails, and poems of love and longing. We spent the most perfect evening and night together, which unfolded into breathtaking sexuality, bodies and hearts as one. The fullness of her desire was purity itself...so seemingly completely IN her body...demanding nothing, offering all...her sex, life, and dreams mine to pour myself into. Again holding back from penetration, i nearly lost control...a moment i'll never stop reliving.

In our letters, she hadn't mentioned her child. The next day, happy but afraid of being in over my head, i clumsily wrote her and asked that we go slowly. I may have even said "start over".

She disappeared.
Were they wrong to believe in me? Duped by hormones, and the holes in their life they (like everyone) were trying to fill? Did their needs blind them to some absence in my spirit? That's unfair, i hope. To use a clumsy metaphor, perhaps intuition is about heart, not head. They weren't wrong, thinking that my heart was fully alive...curious, caring, and eager for the greatest love of my life.
I would have been fortunate, to love either of them for a season or lifetime.

And now...

Just memories, and dreams of being there again...imagining whispering, moments after penetration, "Do you want your son to be an only child?"
To be there, but give myself fully? The beauty chokes me up. Decades of barely-interrupted loneliness chokes me up. This creep toward death chokes me up.

I'm left with beautiful insanity, and an almost predatory desire to have that again.
Predatory. If you could know how i've never used another as a means to an end...and now, when i should be at the pinnacle of my wisdom and serenity, to find myself...predatory. If you think the average person in this culture isn't deeply predatory, you can't understand what i'm talking about.
Remember that worry about "me" being erased? Did our debased culture find an end run to achieving that? Have i gone from the most trustworthy person you'll ever meet (left-handed compliment!) to just another wretch? There is no function in a dysfunctional world.
Laughter, or tears...

But just once more, to be the most beautiful thing a womyn has ever found...and finally, to let her be exactly the same for me.
My heart tears at its cage.