I Sing the Body Electric/ Whitman

A woman’s Body at auction!
She too is not only herself—she is the teeming mother of mothers;
She is the bearer of them that shall grow and be mates to the mothers.

Have you ever loved the Body of a woman?
Have you ever loved the Body of a man?
Your father—where is your father?
Your mother—is she living? have you been much with her? and has she been much with you?
—Do you not see that these are exactly the same to all, in all nations and times, all over the earth?

If any thing is sacred, the human body is sacred,
And the glory and sweet of a man, is the token of manhood untainted;
And in man or woman, a clean, strong, firm-fibred body, is beautiful as the most beautiful face.

Have you seen the fool that corrupted his own live body? or the fool that corrupted her own live body?
For they do not conceal themselves, and cannot conceal themselves.

Fancy Kisses

If I had made this bed alone

There would be no scent of baby powder and spice.

There would be no looking both ways.

I would not have learned to roll the dice…twice.

If I had made this house, cedar and stain, log cabin frame, without its dame…I would still be dwelling in discord’s refrain.

In the morning, between the static and the reprieve, when it is easy to not believe…I ponder such vacant thoughts.

After all you have made me a vagabond to your ways.

Through routine I am grounded in the games we play.

Had I made this bed alone

pillows, solitary and too crisp.

I would have never fancied your kiss.

Local Girls

Forested farmland
Field of greens
A vision that sought me out while on a comforter of limes
And, with a poking elbow attack, I could tell that I had bothered the local girl
It would appear that my smokey indulgence went into overdrive.
Had not the ceiling opened up and the walls curled.
I would have considered the world flat…not circular.

I have had daffodil dust moments before.
But when I discuss this in plain sight…
This foreplay bothersome for local girls
and
I am banished from sight.

Box of Vows

I discovered my vows in the bottom of a box

Scribbled, smooth as silk….yellow, red, purple…

the words,

of love and such.

With tannery hands,

I brushed away the

cobwebs.

I gently blew away the dust.

Endearment’s endeavors had been so young…way back when.

Impasse coupled with miracles…a constant friend.

Years of having worn my heart on my sleeve…lavished me in self proclaimed, misery.

It is only now, by virtue of, love’s vows…

I see the greatest gift of all.

‘You have taught me to take life less seriously.’