the buzz

my skin tingles

at your buzz

i am

a worker, a drone

a perfect twin to millions

you accept and allow into 

your presence

i move slowly near your stripes

pretending even 

to stick to the honeycomb.

when i fly away to float

among the smiling faces

blue 

and pink

and yellow

stealing the delicious spice of rumors

i move quickly

returning

dripping with loyalty

a giant i would attack

and die

to save you from blushing death

it is my nature, you see

i serve

my queen bee

Preacher Girl

You were there, when I fell through a galaxy to the bottom of a black hole and into the valley of my life. It was your spirit that found me dead on some deserted moon. It was your spirit that warmed my chest and turned the light on again behind my eyes.

I caught up with you in Paris. We slept on a busted futon. We held hands. I touched your face. We rode bicycles around the city. We got to share in that grown-up moment together when the Love and Peace Hostel told us we were too old to lodge there. (Though just barely:)

It is indeed true that you have led at times, and I have led at times. Partnership is what it's called.

How exactly am I supposed to guage my rising tide of love for you, with seismic meters and gadgets?

I cherish our history, all of it, in Los Angeles and Portland. It's the special people that can place the pain behind them and evolve into the next level of their relationship. Of course, everything I know about being special I learned from your French spirit. My love, when you brought me back to life, I became your personal artist forever. And more. I'm blowing a kiss into the northern sky as I post this and it ought to be arriving on your lips right about...now.

Voice Box Recognition

Seagulls own the beach in the winter. Wild horses will always capture our imagination. Squirrels continue to freak me out.

Dogs will love you, no matter if you leave them alone for 12 hours and yell at them for chewing on the cabinets when you return home, or if they're being led to the gas chamber at the local pound.

Nothing is quicker than a fish, except a quicker fish.

Nothing is as awesome as a hawk blurring downward.

Dairy cows don't complain, and they could complain about a lot of things in this here industrialized world in which they live.

A fox once breezed across the trail in front of me deep in the woods. She moved like a tuft of red vapor below my knees and disappeared into the green. The next day I saw a coyote loping near the river, waiting for something. Then I saw another coyote hopping along on three legs, keeping up.

What's prettier, a cardinal or a blue bird? I don't know.

Elephants cover twenty miles a day in the wild. They live in chains in the circus.

People say don't run if you encounter a bear in the woods, but let me explain something: I will run my ass off.

There's a flock of wild green parrots with red faces where I live, and when they congregate and chatter in my sister's backyard fruit tree, time stands still.

The crows watch everything from their perch. My dog used to chase deer in the woods as if he actually had a chance.

Once there was a laboratory monkey that was confined to a cage his entire life and somehow a sanctuary got hold of him, and you know how he spent his very first day outside the walls of the labratory? He sat on a hill, watched the sun rise, watched it traverse the sky, and then watched it set.

Someday I hope to see a Bengal Tiger and a pride of lions but it won't be at the zoo because I don't go to zoos.

I feel better knowing we come from apes rather than God creating Adam and Eve out of thin air. I mean, what's more magical? What's more honorable? What binds us to the earth other than evolution? Ignoring evolution separates us from our brothers and sisters watching our every move but keeping quiet because the largest difference between us and the animals is the development of our voice boxes. I'm just sayin'.

See, the animals are my people. They've been there for me when no one else was. I have a lot more than a little bit of love for them.

The Goddess Hunter

I've tracked you for thousands of years. You left a sheet of ice across the far side of Saturn. You burned a path through the sun. You touched my face during a sandstorm in the Sahara.

I read the terrain and followed.

Every century, since the birth of life, the stars have said to carry on. And so I have.

Along the way I have lost everything, gladly. For I am a goddess hunter. And now, finally, this journey of epochs is coming to a close.

The scars through my heart are real. Yet it beats. I have lived the prophecy. Dark forces could not stop me. I walked through demons. I cured ghosts. Witches sat at my feet.

And now I am knocking at your door. You live in this smog city among these ordinary people who have no idea who you really are. But I do.

The door is open. I enter. A thousand candles are burning on the floor. You are waiting, with a flower in your hair. The search, my darling, is truly over. 

Hello.

A Trillion Years

You smell sweetest here, just above your temple. I love kissing your closed eye because it's the softest kiss in the world. I need to lick your lips for my own daily sanity. Still, I must be careful not to devour you entirely. There won't be anything left for later!

I know we've just started sexing. But I must learn to touch your body better. I must know more places where you like the touch so soft it nearly tickles, but doesn't quite. Where you like the circles, where you enjoy the strumming, and where you like the flowering fingertips. You see, this was ordained my job from the beginning of time. God Almighty was assigning chores and said, "Ed, I want you to touch Bree in a trillion years." And I was like, "Right on, dude. I'll start asking the stars what's the best way to touch the most perfect tiny body. Word!"

And now you are my divine instrument to play, at long last. I've learned all I could since I was assigned my dream job way back when, and we're still getting in tune. The fact is, truly masterful performances are the result of patience and practice. So let's keep practicing.

Last night while the LAPD ghetto birds buzzed the rooftops you popped up in bed and demanded to know how is it I know exactly where to touch your body.

The answer is training. But you ain't felt nothing yet.

Come here, Sunshine Girl. Lay on your stomach. I want to show you one of a few thousand tricks I've learned over the years. This one Neptune taught me, but I think it might need a little refinement. Seriously, Bree, what are you doing for the next trillion years?

News Flash

I've got your news for the day right here:

Wages continue to stay flat. Cost of living continues to increase. More people lost their homes. The stock market was up again.

Some teams won. Some teams lost. Some player got traded. Some player said something stupid.

We've been at "war" now in the Mideast for far longer than it took to win World War II.

The weather will be sunny, unless it's not. Consult the sky in the morning, and then again in the afternoon.

Non-violent offenders continue to clog up the jails and prisons. They are almost exclusively poor. There is no serious effort to rectify this crime.

There might be another super flu coming out of Asia, possibly. No one knows for sure.

Another government agency was obeying the industry it was supposed to be regulating.

Every politician is running on the slogan of "change," for 30 years now.

Some celebrity has some new movie coming out.

And I am still madly in love with you.

Constant

By Wendryn

You have only said "I love you" a few times. When I listen to what you do instead of what you say, though, it is there.

I was afraid, when I met you, of not being good enough, of being permanently broken. You sat with me, listened to me, worked through pain with me, and held me when I cried. You learned what hurt and you helped it heal. You made it safe for me to be myself without trying to fit to what you wanted; all you wanted, all you want, is me.

I came home in the cold and the snow one night, exhausted and sad. You told me to take a hot shower and relax. You fed me dinner you had made, adjusting spices to my taste instead of yours. You gave me a glass of wine and let me talk about the day, good and bad. You had warmed up the bed, so when we climbed in and turned off the lights we were in a comfortable, warm, safe cave, tucked into each other. You held me as I slept. You let me have the night to let go of everything.

We have been through joy, grief, laughter, and pain, and now a future we never imagined has opened up in front of us. It is different, but not necessarily worse. We are adjusting.

Despite it all, because of it all, we are still together.

I love you for your stability, your humor, your cooking, your patience. I love that I still smile every time I see you. I love that we make each other laugh, and I love that we can be each others' support when life hurts past bearing.

You are my center. You are what I come back to, what I yearn for, what brightens the day and makes the nights safe. You are my laughter and sometimes my anger. You are the safe place I never had, and you do not make me feel weak for wanting that safety.

You are stronger than you know; you have given me strength and loved me as myself.

Gypsy Soul

I undressed your raggae spirit. Yeah, I did it before we fell asleep for a thousand years in this sacred grove of olive trees. Then we took a leisurely swim in your jade-colored river before hunting for that tie-dye shirt hanging from a branch somewhere. Afterwards, we sailed toward the horizon of your gypsy soul, guided by the brightest stars in our sky.

When we hit land, we traded that sailboat in for how we prefer to travel: A 1992 black Porsche 911. We raced over the ribbon of asphalt through the desert, blasting through mirages to the outpost town where, when we did leave our room, it was only to use the pool and eat, briefly. I mean, who gambles in Las Vegas when the jackpot has hazel eyes and lives between the sheets, except to eat and use the pool, breifly.

We came awake as light leaked into the sky, softly breathing on each other's face. And then we set off again, this time blasting through cloud mountains to Paris. We had dinner with Louie, bicycled around the city, and woke up in Rome. When we couldn't find your shirt in Rome, we figured we'd try Hong Kong, Istanbul and Jupiter, always guided by the brightest stars in our blended sky, always sailing by the full canvass of your gypsy soul.

Dinner in the Garden

I didn't know we were allowed to live here in the sky, sipping on stars, lost in light, upside down and turned the fuck around. We waited our whole lives to discover the sweet fun of blindness.

Falling was ordained. Carve me up, woman. Dive inside my chest. And I'll crawl up your ass. Then we'll burst out at the same time and put the jeweled pieces back together for our daily work of art.

Go to work. Dinner will be ready when you return. No, I don't mind working in your kitchen, and that's because you don't mind working for me in the bedroom. Yeah, I don't mind running my big mouth, and that's because I can back it up, sometimes.

We'll save the jokes for later. I mean, I'll save the jokes for later. Right now, I want to drop into your eyes and catch and the wind from your childhood, tear a chunk from my soul and plant it in your garden, hang paper lanterns from your sky, climb into your deepest well and touch the holy water lightly with the back of my hand. Then I'll think about what to make for dinner.