Teach my fumbling fingers
Nona laút. Little lady of the sea.
We have been in love for a year now.
You came like grace after a storm, flaunting your curves and tinkling laughter at my tired gray heart.
You spin into songs what I would not know how to speak.
Sunburned, hugged and overpeopled
my mind drifts on the storm breeze.
i camp out in bed for the day, surrounded by a sea of
crumpled love poem,
fairy lights duct tape a drying carpet,
A stack of bills on the altar
and my guitar stretched out on brightly-colored silks,
fit to dress a queen on a wedding day.
but i can bless
My mother’s best friend is a doctor.
A doctor coming to the age of retiring - and like many of them, not so inclined.
“Because when you know how to fix people, why would you stop.”
Love in the Chaos
Love is waiting in the Chaos at Resolution Festival!
I will be holding a Tantric Temple in the Healer’s Space, to bathe your body in sweet tenderness. Opening this year with a prayer of devotion poured into every inch of your skin.
I am really excited to find out how this will work out! Instead of my usual workspace, my cozy empire where everything is so carefully prepared, the temperature, the silence and music - now we’ll share ceremonies of divine love in the wild, ebullient festival life. Take it outside - My favourite kind of adventure!
My most fun Tarot gig ever was in a similarly improbable venue - an artsy Valentine’s day erotic discotheque celebration.
dreaming in the renaissance
so you may have heard - this solstice is a very special planetary party. yes, the planets are always doing a bunch of exciting things, but this.
last time the planets did what they are about to do in a few days, the Renaissance happened.
Let that trickle in for a moment.
From the dark ages of dogma, oppression, ignorance… suddenly, an airplane.
pour your libation at my feet
This is going to be controversial.
I rise to the symphony of sunrise birds and a sentence I cannot let lie.
“Your clients must fall in love with you all the time.”
the one thing most precious
“what is important does not need to be spectacular”.
i wanted simple. we needed simple. we are few, around a candle, and the rain. i say these words, and they trickle down, penetrate the ultra-density i later realize is my body digesting an eclipse. i’ve been percolating for weeks the phrase :
“when a person chooses the one thing most precious it is a serious act.”
to keep silence
Every day,
Every conversation
About my work
is ripe with the unsaid.
“What happens in a session?”
Time’s scratchings
The digital window opens, we
Gaze
at the Beloved
In a mosaic of bodies.
Awed witnesses of time’s scratchings
on our faces.
backs full of arrows
It’s weeping season.
Not crying, no, forget about the trickle - monsoon. From all directions love comes flying and the thud of each arrow knocks the breath out of me.
Because it matters
I am in yet another rose garden. Enveloped in the proud clamor of hundreds of bagpipes. There’s a competition going, and pale faces march by in smart matching kilts.
Nothing left but music
The moon darkens and there is no negotiation.
nothing left but music.
I stop working, I stop talking.
In, woman.
line in the sand
I love working with men, but my heart yearns to share the gift of tantric touch more widely with my sisters. To lavish exquisite tenderness into their bodies and soul.
“What makes a sexual experience sacred?”
It’s close to midnight in the deserted park. the men in vigil want to know more about my experience giving tantric massage. I thought it would be hard to explain, but a triangle sketched itself before me.
Like the ample body of a cackling woman
something is happening.
something pulled me onto my bike, sailing down and puffing uphill until i walked into a great garden and my breath stopped.
her game in thy tongue
Today, in lieu of a review for one of my card readings, i received this fantastic poem.
Invite poetry into people’s lives, and they may well return the favor….
naked messenger
i watch the sky light up into purple this morning. its been weeks since i could glimpse the sky from a window, and i was wilting. i watch the colors flare up the heavens and i feel like i’m slowly recovering from a long, long hangover.
elusive sound
hour after hour,
they start
to gleam.
with every adjustment
to its digital curves
my music refines,
whittled down and
with every minute
i feel
more naked.