Sweet Bloom

Split deep and wide,
each encounter
opens me more.

Fragments of my brokenness

drop out
and pain leaks

from my eyes,

my womb,

my skin.

Memories of the transgressions in my past
play their greatest hits
as I vibrate;
my body a violin
played by a cosmic hand.

Each stroke of the bow,
a dirge.
Every aching note
tends to the
sweet fecund bloom
in my heart.

Howl

I saw a coyote this morning
while feeling that deep ache in my back.


The one I thought would rip me apart.


There is fatigue,
mental, physical,
but the kind of weary sleep doesn't touch
is gone for now.


I'm tender-hearted.
I want to drown in these delicious tears.


I open my mouth and out pours a coyote's howl. 

 

It says,

Be free. 

Love everyone.

Winemaking

That magical fruit

breathes
as it enters our bellies


and stokes the fire
in our hearts.


We come to each other
hesitant
before the sheer force.


And then,
with full awareness,
we step into
the deep pool of desire.


Devouring each other
with a tenderness
that evokes
those precious grapes;


crushed, transformed, and
ready for ripening.

Breaking Open

This ache,
radiates
from my heart.

It speaks of longing
and things unknown.

Belly trembling,
tears and sweat
dripping,
the sweet anguish
of this merging is
unbearable.

Navigating the dark,
moist,
fertile ground
of archived heart break;
with tremulous trepidation,
I open.

Arms and legs entwined

like delicate tendrils,

 

spiraling up and around and

in and through and

all the words, and

all the things

that have no words.

They all come at once.

 

My heart bursting.

 

You ask,

What are you feeling?

 

And all I can say is,

Love.

Presence

I breathe in the smoke of my fury.
My heart, a saturated sponge I let sit,
dripping with the excess.

Nothing to do but wait.
There will be no wringing out
this mess.

I wait

until the room of my sorrow clears
and makes space.


And tiny winding hallways bring
my heart’s cargo to every cell.

The rain’s moisture is on my skin.
The darkened sky envelops me.
The city sounds caress me.

 

My presence is palpable.

I am here.

Main Street, Brockport

1989

Painting a big eye on Main Street.

I look at George's back 

moving away.

I see my life in front of me,

so present it shocks me to attention.

Main Street breathes it's feeble life,

made un-feeble by the presence

of George.

The night moves forward steadily,

calmly.

There are no promises in this nightlife.

You leave with the same skin you came in.

Tonight, I don't question love.

I paint windows

and feel alive.

Crossing

© 2020 by Kim Vetter/kosmicdancetheatre