December_the first Sunday

Good Morning

11:29 – In bed, retainers and glasses on, rheum and all

Awoken without a desire in the world but to remain in bed and let me just be.

Five thousand things to do that I choose to leave as things to do, not things I’ve done, for now.

Is it that December is here, the month so many fortune tellers have warned me about?

Yet I mustered up enough willpower to be writing about it.

A good enough start to the day for me.


December_the first Saturday


12:58 – Brunch

Eating oatmeal with apples my dear Bae made for me, listening to Christmas carols, lounging around in my Christmas PJs – a lovely red 2-piece with white heart-shaped polka dots. And the thought that keeps lingering is, “What more could you ask for?”





Will there be Crumb?

And my dear –

What will remain of our love,

when I’m done with this

Scone, here?

IMG_7835(scone_crumb poem).jpg

Will there any crumbs be


For you and me?

Will there any remains be

Of your love,

Of you, my dear?


Will I ever be able to get

a taste of the crumbs of your love dear?

Something is coming continued

This time,

Her head was cracked backwards

She had curly hair

Her mouth ripped side to side

In joyous shrieks,

She was crackling her S.O.S.

And again,

A sense of happiness and relief

For her.

She is in no doubt, agony.

But I am happy for her.

Because, I think…

I no longer associate agony as a bad thing.

Maybe I know this is what she needs

That this is what we all need

To move on to the next level.

She knows this too,

She knows she is being saved

She knows she is about to enter

I swear it is birth itself personified

You just don’t see the blood

You just don’t see the Mother pushing,

Her teeth of ivory, hard-gritting

With tears of joy and ever-lasting love exuding from and through her being.

You just don’t see the Father awaiting,

With grateful arms carefully open,

to catch, to hold,

Eyes glistening with awe and fear at the unencompassable beauty that is about to enter the world.

It is a birth,

It is anxious

It is full of possibilities,

But not uncertain,

Rather, it is so certain.

So certainly happening,

She is coming

She is coming

She is coming.

More than she knows,

More than she’d ever be able to fully grasp in the moment.

I await.


For her coming.


I await.



I await.


I await.

Something is coming

I can sense it.
I close my eyes.
And something from the right,
A blasting scream
A woman’s shriek.
Long, black, ruffled, coarse
She screams with all her might,
I’m gladdened by the sound.
It tickles me,
My Heart
Wants to know,
Awaits more

I sense it.
Something is coming.

She is Fierce.
She is insistent.
She is Loud,
But calls from afar.
Yet I feel her
So close.
I feel,
So close.

Her nails are clawing
She is reaching
And reaching
Her legs flailing,
And kicking

She wants to be free.
She wants to run.
She wants to gallop.
But she doesn’t want to flee.

Not away from something,
But towards somewhere.

She wants to feel the wind.
She wants to drink the raindrops.
She wants to smell the Earth.
She wants to be her Beast.

She wants to be bare.
She wants to receive.
She smells the moist air
If only she could reach…

It’s almost an orgasm
I feel
Her coming.
She is so desperate
She is making me tear.
She is in agony,
She knocks, and bangs

She fights for her life.
Not a life,
But her life.

She hisses her tongue,
She knows a secret language
I don’t know
But she is so clever,
She knows.
Her time is almost up.
She will come out soon.
Let all men dread
Her return.
Her run.
Her wrath.
Her love.
Her path.

Soon, she will come.
She will come.
She will come.

Yes, she will come
She will come
She is.

phantom lover of mine

I don’t know
are you another ghost?
who lays beside me
in this pre-dawn darkness
whose eyes glisten
staring ever so loving
is it you?
is it really you?

I don’t know
I don’t know
Who lays beside me
these dark, sleepless nights
I only know
who I wish it would be
who I wish it could be
who I need it to be
holding me close
holding me tight
through these long endless nights

New Moon, moving

he’s moving

he’s moving

my baby’s moving with the new moon

the new moon

it’s a new moon

the moon moves my baby



my baby moves

by the same moon that moves me

we move




travel safe love

be light my dear

for the moon takes you



all places you go.

and if those places be

far, farther from me

so shall it be.

for it is the moon that leads



from me.

it is the moon that leads


you and me.

cradling a stillborn

for how long can you cradle a stillborn in your arms

can you stare him to life

can you cry him to life

can you kiss him to life

breathe him to being


will you call out his name, if he has one

will you plead his departing soul, “Please stay

will you fight his stillness

will you insist

will you let go

will you release

will you open your arms

let the angels carry him

let your bosom be bare

let your heart tear


would you hold him dear still

would you hold him still dear

dear would you still hold him

dear would you hold him still