Nectar & Cup: Love poems v.2

“For one human being to love another; that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks, the ultimate, the last test and proof, the work for which all other work is but preparation. I hold this to be the highest task for a bond between two people: that each protects the solitude of the other.
This is the miracle that happens every time to those who really love: the more they give, the more they possess.”

-Rainer Maria Rilke

I'll Love You the Same Way I Open a Pomegranate

I'm ready when you are.

All my devices will be silenced.

I will turn my chair, my shoulders, and both feet towards the table to face you;

I'll be as gentle as I can be

while you open.

With clean hands, ready to catch even one of your jewels if they wobble out of place,

I'll enjoy the sound of your wiggly liberation

from what has kept you contained in your tiny catacombs for so long.

Body Walker

Yes, we are who we are.

Perhaps the ticket is getting in touch

with what we believe we're here to do.

Believe it or not, I take my body for walks.

Most days, when she's well fed and rested, this is what she feels:

Gratitude ruling, joy in her heart,

the ease of acceptance from taking life in one scene at a time,

the wisdom of ages playing the game,

super sensory heightened awareness,

thresholds of power (the approach and the crossing),

the point of the process,

the choice of the now,

the physical experience of this body,

the Truth at all times,

pathways clearing,

the raw data,

the vastness.

She says,

"I am alive to stay open.

The greatest power in the world

is the ability to pick myself up

and lay myself down,


Hey Everything,

I'm interested in all of the ways you do this too,

how you open, close,

and connect to everything around you.

I've been watching.

I'm here to take notes and share my findings

on your acceleration,

and the way you coast.

I am alive to love just like I breathe

and breathing has always been my superpower."

Ode to Mysemite

For Megan and Natainiel

Mysemite, you melted away all of our self-consciousness in one night.

You win.

It's Okay That My Parents Read What I Write

It's okay that my parents read what I write.

They brought me to life;

I haven't thanked them enough.

Things like my bank account and paperwork are challenge enough for me.

These two people left the Philippine Islands with two young children

for a place across the sea,

had another baby in the middle of everything,

and they kept us all alive!

I realize that perhaps all they ever wanted

was for us to be real with them.

That's all anybody ever wants from anybody else

and I believe it's never too late for that.

So yeah, it's okay that my parents read what I write.