We are now in the year of the Wood Cock
a Yin year of Beauty and a bit of Arrogance
it was Tuesday
the last day of the moon of the Monkey Year
the first day of the New Moon of the Cock year
What did you do on Tuesday? the day of the new moon?
i was Hauling wood.
went down the hill
fought through the sleeping poison oak branches and Live Oak and scrubs...
picked up wood cut back in 2001 by a friend of mine who came here to take Leo's unused solar panels...
i was kinda tired after hauling the wood up
and getting the rest of the wood from the old deck out back inside by the fire place
i came to rest in front of the fire after a shower
the night settling in
and then my Farmer arrived
we talked an cuddled
he is a good man of the earth
hears my body speaking
does what i want without even needing to say it
the fire blazing
i lost myself to orgasm once
licking his knee
cuddling and talking more
but no: more fire, more talking, more cuddling, more love making
i came again, this time on top of him
he kept me howling for a few minutes
but then he thought he might like to..
though kept saying
"i'm going to let you rest now"
but i was flying
i didn't need rest
crossed over the thresh-hold...
but this time my body became the orgasm entire
and it wasn't just a howl
it was a scream
that shook my whole body
like a mass of liquid light from my throat spreading down and filling my body
and when it contacted the mass of liquid light from my root
i just exploded
and screamed louder/longer/fuller than i had in over 4 years
this went on for ∞
then he asked me if i was OK...
i admitted to being much better than OK
and after i had recovered, i made dinner .
the special thing about my farmer
is that we are not having "hot Sex"
but we're very much making love
the whole time
he is adoring me
and i he
we have that same fetish
the orgasm is not one of "wow, i just shot a big load, man"
it's filling the self, the two selves, the one self. the entire self of the world
this is the kind of sex i WISH for
the kind of sex i hope for everytime sex starts
but sometimes it's work
or it's just me doing it
or neither of us are doing it
we're doing something else
and other things are alright too
but this is healing
and makes me feel like i've done something wonderful for myself
and the whole world
even when he was here last week
he did for me something i'd never had done
and i shot a load of cum clear up into my face, hair, Eye!
i'd never had cum in my eye
--- it didn't hurt as bad as people had made me believe...
so i make dinner
we sit and talk in front of the fire
i decide i want to give him some of my cum in his mouth
he still hasn't cum yet
so we 69
and give eachother desert
then it's very much night
and time for sleeping
so internal, connected in the dark of the moon
i really want to read to him
so i think of what to read to him?
and what better than Rumi?
I used to read Rumi all the time
got introduced to him in 1999 by going to see a Philip Glass Opera called "Monsters of Grace"
and the entire libretto was Rumi
(friends there had been telling me to read him-- i'd just not got around to it yet... -- So Philip introduced me)
Rumi carried me for years after that
and culminated in me dancing with Iranian refugees in Rotterdam
i became friends with the Sheik... though he could only speak Farsi
he taught me a lot
i know little of Islam...
but Sufi's care mostly about loving
knowing the Friend
developing a conversation with him
Loving gets you to God.
"How you make love is how you are with God"
one of his quotes i always remember...
it has been over a year (almost Two!) since i read Rumi!
when i broke up with all my friends in 2003
"Sometimes i forget completely
what companionship is.
Unconscious and insane, I spill sad
energy everywhere. My story
gets told in various ways: a romance,
a dirty joke, a war, a vacancy.
Divide up my forgetfulness to any number,
it will go around.
These dark suggestions that i follow,
are they part of some plan?
Friends, be careful. Don't come near me
out of curiosity, or sympathy."
but here i was
on the anniversary (kinda) of being in Brazil
and picked up by João out of the dark hole i'd fallen into
i should celebrate love
by remembering the lover
i read to him Poetry of Rumi
spiritual love poems...
then we slept
and he was out the door at the crack of dawn
on to his farmer's meeting
after having repeated my favourite poem to him:
the breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you
don't go back to sleep
you must ask for what you reall want
don't go back to sleep
there are people walking back and forth across the door sill
where the two worlds touch
the door is wide and open:
don't go back to sleep
how could i?
i stayed awake
and let the day settle into me
reading the Koran
and thinking of sharing some more Rumi Fragments with my friends here
(this one is for Y)
Let the lover be disgraceful, crazy,
absentminded. Someone sober
will worry about things going badly.
Let the lover be.
(the rest are for all of us)
one man says to a shiek
'what is this playing that you do?
Why do you hide your intelligence so?'
the sheik says
'the people here want to put me in charge. They want me to be
judge, magistrate, and interpreter of all the texts.
The Knowing i have doesn't want that. It wants to enjoy itself.
I am a plantation of sugarcane, and at the same time
I'm eating the sweetness.'
-- Knowledge that is acquired
is not like this. Those who have it worry if audiences like it or not.
It's a bait for popularity.
Disputational knowing wants customers.
It has no soul.
Robust and energetic
before a responsive crowd, it slumps when no one is there.
The only real customer is God.
your sweet sugarcane God-Love, and stay
will turn rosy with illumination
like the redbud flowers.
When the ocean comes to you as a lover,
marry, at once, quickly,
for God's sake!
Don't postpone it!
Existance has no better gift.
Where lowland is,
that's where water goes. All medicine wants
is pain to cure.
And don't just ask for one mercy.
Let them flood in. Let the sky open under your feet.
Take the cotton out of your eyes.
Blow the phlegm from your nose,
and from your brain.
Let the wind breeze through.
Leave no residue in yourself from that bilious fever.
Take the cure for impotence,
that your manhood may shoot forth,
and a hundred new beings come from your coming.
Tear the binding from around the foot
of your sul, and let it race around the track
in front of the crowd. Loosen the knot of greed
so tight on your neck. Accept your new good luck.
Give your weakness
to one who helps.
Crying out and weeping are great resources.
The conventional opinion of this poetry is,
it shows great optimism for the future.
But Father Reason says,
NO NEED TO ANNOUNCE THE FUTURE!
This now is it. THIS. Your deepest need and desire
is satisfied by the MOMENT'S energy
here in your hand.