Friday, March 28, 2008

Reply


Yes, you distract me.
Like the springtime air distracts the Robin's red breast.


Yes, you lure me.
Like the big waves at Waimea lure the surfer's heart. Yes

you disturb me.
I call to you in my bed at night, oh yes!


Yes, you destroy me.
The edifice of years now torn by truth. Yes, yes,


yes, I cry your name in my heart.
How long before it's on my lips, my lips, on my lips?

---

In Africa's aged fire, my lips,
they call your name, your sacred name:

TIGGY.

Your holy name, your majestic name,
your beautiful, solitary, lovely name:

TIGGY.

Your true and selective and careful name,
your name that sends me looping through a holy fog:

TIGGY.

The name by which god summons me
through air and water, fire and smog:

TIGGY, TIGGY,

TIGGY.

(originally posted in Apollo and Laphrodite)

Sunday, March 23, 2008

Your Heart, My Heart

In Africa I wrote in my journal, "I'm smiling at you from across the water, with your heart in my hand."

What does that mean?

One of the highlights of visiting Pantheacon together in February was checking out all the vendors and their exotic wares. In the end we bought something very simple: two little heart-shaped stones -- one for me and one for you -- and exchanged them.

I carry yours in my pocket.

Some time later it occurred to me that now I could accurately say, "I have your heart in my pocket." But I don't say that, because it would give the completely wrong impression! I don't expect or seek the sort of control that statement implies, and I know you would not give it if I did.

I carry "your" heart as a tangible reminder of you.

I touch it when I put my hand in my pocket for change or car keys. Whatever I'm doing I'll remember you and the things I love about you.

Sometimes when I'm thinking of you I reach for it and hold it. It could be only briefly, and never leave my pocket. Or I might take it out and hold it in my hand for a long time while walking or sitting in a meeting.

I love the way the stone warms to my touch. I love its smoothness, and even its hardness. I love how it sparkles in the sunlight.

Sometimes when I hold and feel your heart, I feel hope for us. Hope that we will figure out a future for ourselves.

Other times I just picture you and feel who you are. I remember the times we've had together.


Your Heart, My Heart

If I say,
"Your heart is in my pocket"
you might get the wrong impression!
As if I wanted to control you,
or think I'm in possession.

But its here just to remind me
of the real heart beating there.
Beneath your lively hummingbirds
is the heart for which I care.



(originally posted in Apollo and Laphrodite)

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Leaving On a Trip

Going away from home
Can be scary,
It can be exciting,
It can often be a chore.

Doing something new
Can be entertaining,
It can be thrilling (like skydiving),
Or it can even be a bore.

And missing you can
Feel like touching emptiness,
Brush all my insecurities,
And make my insides sore.

But I'm grateful for these feelings,
For all we've done together,
For not knowing about the future
I can still smile at what lies in store.

Magic: A Paeon to Laphrodite

When the moonlight glistens
on the lapping waves
that's when you practice your magic on me.

And when Phoebus tips
above the golden hills
I know you practice your magic on me.

And when our lips touch
in the moment that lasts for days
that's when I feel your magic in me.

But when your shining eyes
close in joy,
your tranquil smile beaming
on me alone,
as you ache, cry and tremble
with each move of our hips,
that's when I practice my magic in you.

2007
(Originally posted in Apollo and Laphrodite)

Sunday, March 9, 2008

O Santa Cruz!

Bring me my bow of burning gold!
Bring me my arrows of desire!
Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire!
I will not cease from mental fight,
nor shall her song slip from my head,
till we have lain together Bare
In Laphrodite's pleasant Bed.



(originally posted in Apollo and Laphrodite)

You Made Me Smile

I was feeling very sad,
I was going to write some introspective emo b.s.
Then I saw that you'd posted in our new blog,
Now I'm smiling.
It's amazing how simple I am.

Thursday, March 6, 2008

O my comrade!

O my comrade!
O you and me at last—and us two only;
O power, liberty, eternity at last!
O to be relieved of distinctions! to make as much of vices as virtues!
O to level occupations and the sexes! O to bring all to common ground! O adhesiveness!
O the pensive aching to be together—you know not why, and I know not why.

Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass (1860) Proto-Leaf 64

I had wondered whether this blog (Apollo's Fire) was completed. My last post, a quote from Kin of Ata seemed a powerful stopping point and I hated to disturb the silence. But today I saw this bit of Whitman quoted in another book I'm reading and I had to look it up. It seemed to me a good basis on which to continue.