beauty, love, poetry, women

make it rain

In this

Even as sometimes

Notes get chorded 

With clumsy

Feelings

But the song plays on

And when it’s my turn to

Solo I might drop the notes

Create dissonance

But I keep a straight face

Keep playing

Breathing open to the

Feeling and risking

Bringing it all down

In pursuit of something greater

Than myself

But there are storms 

Of wonder called 

By the music 

And even though the skies 

Might be bone dry

I’ll crank up the volume

And make it rain

Hot and sweet

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Boys Are Made

http://theatlantic.feedsportal.com/c/34375/f/647836/s/3b3da20f/sc/7/l/0L0Stheatlantic0N0Chealth0Carchive0C20A140C0A60Chow0Eboys0Eteach0Eeach0Eother0Eto0Ebe0Eboys0C3722460C/story01.htm

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A Rich, Secret Wildness

I’m conscious of how my sexual responses and presuppositions work as a masculine male, the physical and emotional cues and reactions that I have when I am intimate. I have written about that before but what interested me was that there was simultaneously a wealth and a deficit of writing about it in comparison to women’s responses. I even write to that cycle, shape the work around it so that it works on a number of levels for me. 

As I write, I have to amuse myself first, intrigue and entertain myself so that in turn, that hopefully comes across to whoever reads it. 

This sounds more calculating than it actually is. Women’s responses are more interesting to write about, the nature and the physical responses of it are a challenge that I enjoy answering. I aspire to a physical and emotional eloquence that I can only reach on the page, not that my own sexual responses are dumb or stilted but they are different to a woman’s.  Women have a rich, secret wildness within them that society does a great deal to keep down but it finds it’s way to the surface no matter how much law, culture, religion and legislation try to hammer it back beneath. 

That’s my challenge as a writer. I never know if I am successful in that regard, but I try regardless. 

You have to give your gift regardless of whether it is received or not. 

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A Walk In The Wild

I took a long walk today with my dog out in the countryside, just thinking and tapping into the energy of nature,  simply by being in the moment
The energy is both masculine and feminine,  fullness and life.  I feel inspired and vital after that time outside.  My skin tingling and I am full of a primal energy that makes me tactile and determined.
Sunshine,  fresh air are arousing for me, there’s a part of my psychology that responds to that wildness, finds comfort in it. 
I enjoy being a man,  not as an insecure performance but as a journey and a struggle. A quiet certainty and a recognition of the drives within me.

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Moving On Four Limbs

Let me take off my glasses,
Untie my shoes,
Unbuckle my belt,
Slough off this gentlemanly skin,
Because I know you see the beast
Beneath and you want to whisk,
Your fingers across the soft fur of my chest,
Look into my eyes and know that I wander into the architecture
Of your face and pray tribute,
To the goddess that I made of you,
As well as help you find the comfort,
In moving on four limbs rather than two.

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Man In A Suit

The world is what you see it,
I see the faded cuffs and the burst stitches,
Of the suit,
The patch of hair on the throat that the razor missed,
Yet with that, hold the determination in his eyes,
The way that he holds his head up,
The way that the fibres in the silk of his tie,
Hold the endless number of sessions,
Making it perfect.
The dream in his steps that drives him ever onward.
See that we are all and more,
Disease and remedy in the same prescription.

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