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POETRY 5 

 

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BUBBLONIA

PEACE WEAVER

EARTH EYES

 

WHAT RUSSEL SEEKS

 

THIS IS A TRUE SONG, MAYBE IT'S FOR YOU                      

 
" . . . All the years gone from your age . . ."
Jefferson Starship

I am looking for the woman
with whom I ate rats--raw rats--
because we did not know fire.

I am looking for the woman
whose frozen body
taught me to tame fire.

I am looking for the woman
who taught me to cup my hand
and drink clear water.

I am looking for the woman
who twisted leaves together
and wove them around my waist.

I am looking for the woman
whose repeated grunts
gave me my name.

I am looking for the woman
for whom I chipped edges on stones
to hack the smoldering meat
and bash trees into places
the fire would not go out.

I am looking for the woman
who taught me many could warm
themselves around one fire.

I am looking for the woman
who saw that trees do not wander
except by the spreading of their seed;
that woman who carried clear water
to seeds she buried in the earth.

I am looking for the woman
who first pointed at her blood
and then at the moon and
with her finger drew a circle in the air.

I am looking for the woman
who shaped the clay of rivers
into shells that carried more water
than both our hands
to the desert and from the sea.

I am looking for the woman
who kept our need less than our seed
so we could plant again
at the moon's full circle.

I am looking for the woman
in whose eyes I first saw the moon;
in whose touch I first felt
the washing waves of the sea;
I am looking for the woman
who extracts from my screaming heart
all the words of my poetry.

I am looking for the woman
whose shadow leads my wandering feet
among the stones and trees and seas;
the woman rooted in earth with eyes
that look down on stars; whose
nipples are the vortices of moonbeams
screaming toward the back of a warming sun; whose breasts nurse the ceaseless waves
of the tides of her voice inside me
that woos me back into the weave
of her womb through all the seasons
of my lingering bones and brains.

I am looking for the woman
who combs her hair with stars;
whose heart gushes through the analogies
I claw screaming
from matter, time and cause
onto bashed trees;
whose heart gushes from the cold
stone floor of the cave into the bony
sea of my hot seed and
beyond the last thin scream
of our silence.

Are you listening?
Are you the woman I am looking for?
Are you woman?

Let your lips in silence answer me.

 

answer me here

talkingearth@hotmail.com

I am an emotionally available single man, 53 years old, 5' 11" tall about 195 pounds in search of a narrow waisted orgasmic woman  to share perpetual mutually creative communication.

 

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