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Room 502


Strands of auburn hair upon the pillow

noble profile in October light:

How did we come to this, two mystics

spun into desire who merged and sank

together, ravished and undone?

Your gaze is turquoise-shattered light

igniting my desire, but can the craving

I attain by kisses spilled along your neck,

tongue-prayers pronounced upon your breast,

cause any moment to remain, or turn

caresses back on a receding wave,

collapsed into the arms that offer them?


Behold, the town below is lively,

crowds gather and the mood is gay,

the people stroll at ease and white clouds billow

through azure skies as we alone, gone shy,

secluded in this room, a little dazed,

drink nectar from each other’s eyes and

let our bodies kiss, embedded in the angled haze

of a flat and cool, departing sun


Our moment is this one, the moment

that is always now.

Our samaya

is here and touching us, skin on skin,

a play of living stains dissolving

and dissolved, a samsaric display mounted

on the moment it awaits, already come:

and poised upon incoming night,

falling with the oak leaves to the plein below

one flutter at a time, each breath

dissolved into the next, uncounted

Completion is, when desire does not go

or stay but conjugates another tense.

Adrift in slow motion, in a timeless void,

in emptiness as soft as falling snow:

these heartbeats in a merge, whence

we dissolve  in whitening silence


In memory suspended, we are returned

to everything we ever knew or felt,

to all we ever were before at once, and

turned upon that recall passing,

spun on the core and melt of that sensation,

enter the halting stream of liberation

In beauty that delights itself, a surge

equal to death that does not die, not yet

Flick of your eyelash on my thigh,

your mouth wet and inviting, my belated sigh

Take me and make me, soft colors

running wild, this dye is set


Two bodies hurtled into hunger and away,

haste of these hands, soft tremble

of limbs that part and delay

Grace of sahaja, luminous, replete:

the void and this desire have one taste.

When I take you to ground, behind

your place of looking, there I stay.

In blaze serene, in mystic heat


I taste the memory of you in every place

you give, each nook and niche,

each favor you bestow, the slow wave of your hand,

your so adoring look, your secret scent.

I have it all in memory of you, intact

the instant you present it,

this memory such as makes itself exact

in every aching touch: my fingertip

upon your smile, tenderness-bound,

no other shore but this unlidded bank of

blind, unsinking bliss, witness

to no one around—no wonder

it goes everywhere

unseeking and unfound

Gate Gate Paragate

What we have wondered found us there

upon the rented bed that we unmade,

naked and new


The friendly stare of fate. A siddha’s dare.

Two jewels in the dew.


Your nectar smears my face, a fragrance

rare as ‘nard, the musky taste that does not slake

the thirst it so incites; even my buried

counter-pulse to your cradle-rocking care

does not efface the hunger-ridden ache

it takes to bring me there


No love is so released as ours.

It stems the very air we breathe.


Strands of auburn hair upon the pillow,

noble profile in this waning light,

tears of sweet joy the afternoon distilled.

You turn into my look and look

upon yourself dissolve into the mirror

of beholding, empty and fulfilled

So I recall you now, and now

is always there with us inside

a luminous departure we adorn:

this October light, this view,

this town, Room 502,

refuge for the unborn

version: December 2, 2008
lunar occultation of Venus,
Reed Valley, Gaucin, Andalucia

March 25, 2009