The Last Day of Venus Post

This is a draft that has been sitting! *emoji of monkey putting hands over eyes* Since returning home I have been diving head-first into juicy artistic endeavors, and part of them pertain to what I was about to share with you all when I started writing THIS:

Over the last 6 months I have posted a weekly ‘Day of Venus’ entry, with the intention of a) keeping my water flowing/my faucet turned ON, and b) overcoming any hesitancy to be unapologetic and raw and as _____ as I am channeling. I am now going to be posting more articles, poetry and creative non-fiction pieces, many of them drawing from lines, stanzas and entries on this site, as well as from journals on my shelves and in my lap and the tiny ones I kept in my fannie-pack for the in-between trances. I am tremendously grateful for your readership and so excited about the future. Here is one last unhinged and unedited free-flow (or poetry? line? song?) before I do a makeover on my entire blog/website over the next chapter of being. Cheers! I love you!


I am a witness of the nest 
shared by two eagles, 
about 9 miles from our apartment. A river is heard
collecting mineral, wing, song, seed.
I am of this concoction of creative matter, 
onlooker and looked-upon, 
where "active" and "still" become one, the longer you see.
A lover alongside my lover,
a lover alongside love itself. 

When your moon-world is beckoning and knowing and feeding you visions, I hope you choose her over the promises you made, the good girl you were told to be, the routine you got used to. Choose the swell of the ocean when it comes to your yard, and the rich soil running black into the earth, for this is to live. And to love is to want all beings of the world to live while they’re alive. To reside in the sun-moon lit caves of your towering spine, is to allow yourself to really settle into your bones to be able to listen. Are they asking for a dance? Can you feel your rib’s vibration when you speak? What is the story being told by the sound of your feet against the ground each day? What are you excited about draping over your shoulders? What are you willing to put down?



The last hour of sun was behind you, 
teal and gold from my bedside curtain cradling your face,
and I had just seen your collarbones
for the first time. 

The language-less animal knew--
that choir of singing cells that is my body--
how many songs, how much poetry,  
how much bowing was to come 
beside the constellations on your skin.



It Is Here

Learning the technicalities, where to balance the scales, and where to add a passageway on the earth for water to dance itself into. “All in perfect timing” soothes the angel in my spirit, speaking from The Quiet Place. Tension builds when I am away from pen and paper, melody and the vibration of my voice in time and space. It feels like release, like long-awaited-for ecstasy flowing through my being, when I am an outlet for all of this love and this coming-to love that is unending and one and the same. The “coming-to” as well as the “to” both ache like, pull like, hold and release, and breathe in and breathe out like love. I could just write about, explore, express, research, live in, talk to, befriend-again love all day and you know what? I’m doing that right now and `I did that yesterday too. I harness the energy and lay down the stones for river-ways to flow, give life, and to be in union with The Ocean of It All.

I spent Lion’s Gate Portal beneath trees looking into faces walking by, and singing from the basin of me
By Jane Hirshfield
the biggest, most delicious, most beautiful fig I ever met

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