It Is

It is to be said
It needs to be said

Women can love each other
It is “ok”
It is forthright
a way of the Universe
A force and an expression
A form of magic
Very wonderful, applicable,
practical and beautiful magic

Sleeping beneath a tree
I have seen us
as women in love with each other
Grappling, entwined and carnal
The tree has seen us this way
Continues to see us
And wants to see us

Two women loving each other
In branches enveloping
In giving shade and shelter
In standing by for the
ways and days of solitude
and growth

Two women loving each other

Angel Land Municipal Airport

At Angel Land Municipal Airport
the lovers come and go.
Some die.
Some die in our hearts.
The sexually immature ones
leave
and take the train and
their train wrecks
back to their competitive
partriachal pursuits.
Boring sex continues chasing
its tail through the sky.
Where is your angel again?
No, where has she gone?
Sex is a marketplace of desire.
Got it.

The white women cash in
on their privilege.
Oh mommy and daddy.
Wrong, they never cash in.
They protect their interests.
They struggle with generosity
at these crossroads,
rather runways, of mortality.
They struggle, so they leave
Angel Land
in the middle of the night,
a red eye flight,
before those who know them
and those who see them
can actually see them.
This airport is tricky,
wedged between earth and heaven.

Now, where is your angel again?

The Herald Of Angel Land

Angel Land is not a place.

Angel Land is found.

Be a woman, then it’s pronounced.

The love of women.

Holding them. All of them.
All forms. All shapes. All bodies.
All colors.

And to be held by them.
From behind.
Chest to chest.
On our sides.
Quietly, judgment is held
when talking,
no judgment.
Just sunshine coming in
from the window
onto the softest of skin
in the morning
and warming.

Angel Land is in life,
in these hours,
on this Earth.

Angel Land turns the eras.
Calls all angels.
We are gathered.
God is coming.
We come.
We replace God,
the fatherly god.
We give God to everyone
who sees us,
hears us,
hates us,
embraces us.

Angel Land is the era.

Gen Z Lezbos Let’s Go

The young ladies
who took my order
at the taco shop
had a good laugh
after they complimented
my pretty nails
and I shared with them
that I’m gonna get
my pretty nails
removed soon
for the sake of my girlfriend.

They then both
showed me their pretty nails
and said
they’re in between girlfriends
right now.
Wink, wink.
And I said
“Apparently we cannot
be trusted to be gentle”.
They burst out laughing.

I like connecting
with the young lesbians of today.
They’re much more accepting
of me
as a woman and a lesbian
than many of the
maintain perfect appearances
millennial lesbians
or the bigoted
baby boomer lesbians.

As A Woman #2

As a woman
I’m learning
to apologize
over every little thing
and notice how other women
apologize for inane things too…
like sorry for turning the light on too quickly
sorry for cooking too much food,
sorry for placing ketchup on the wrong area
of the plate for a kid,
sorry for having a rough day.
Sorry, sorry, sorry,
I’ll try again, I promise. Tomorrow.
I apologize.

Thankfully though,
as a woman
I’m also learning
that it is absolute bullshit
for us to be apologizing all the time
over passengerless, stupid shit.

As A Woman #1

As a woman
I am learning
to be deprived of my
emotional needs.
Though, still I say them. I show them.
I’m transparent about them.
Sometimes I infer or hint at them,
but I don’t hide them,
because that’s what women do
and how we live.
It’s almost always obvious
to others when
we’re “off” or “shaken”.
Because of course, we’re “weak”
or not strong enough to lift
the heavy stones to build those walls
around ourselves.
And so we endure being left
by both male and female lovers
to be loved underwhelmingly
and from that some of us learn
to love ourselves, others, and the universe
very deeply.

Five Hundred & Forty-Five Mornings

One of these days you’ll
not wake up
and all the people you will
have ever loved
will be dead.

Tell me that is not the way towards love.
Rather,
show me that won’t come true
for you.
Show me.

Show me little things matter.
That they’re here.
That you’re here, alive.
Not just waiting for moments
of love to pass,
to pass on,
to be something without you
or to be something with
only you and you alone.

Come touch my sensual body and
my passionate soul
here in the morning,
the 6,540th morning you have left
on this earth.
For if you touch it
once every 12 days
that means you have
545 mornings left to touch me.

If you touch it,
death holds off on its road to the stars
for one less moment.

Make me some kind of sentient lover.
Am I a seraphim again?
Let me be made as a woman.
Find me a woman.
Bring her tongue to my nipples.

Better Than I Do

I thought it was really cute
watching you crush on King Princess
at the concert the other night.

And even though
we’re happily monogamous
from my side of things
you have a free pass
should the two of you
ever have the chance to
sleep with each other.
If that ends up happening,
I’m curious if they’ll end up
eating your pu$$y better than I do.
I mean, if they like eating pu$$y
as much as they sing about,
they’ll be in heaven with yours;
it is that much of a god damn godsend
delicious, delightful, and so
wonderfully textural,
pristine, blissful,
fresh, spring morning pu$$y.
It tastes as beautiful as you look,
with your smooth, velvety eyelids,
crystalline blue eyes,
presentful gaze,
impeccable skin and succulent lips.
Anyhow,
if they do end up eating your pu$$y
better than I do,
then I look forward to knowing
you felt incredible
and also listening and learning
what I might be able to modify
in order to make our experience
generally blissful.

Wiring Around My Heart

In the pet store
two hours after we had sex
a wry smile breaks on my face.
I think about savoring and tasting,
taking in your pussy and your soul,
your moans that release
your reflexes of control
for a moment.
It’s a real pleasure to do that to you.
I can still taste you in my mouth,
breathe you in my nose.
Just the thought of it.
eases my blood pressure,
makes me feel like I’m on vacation.
It rivets my soul.
Makes me know that I’m a woman.
To be a woman is soulful.
Now on aisle twelve
I grab the prescription food
for my sixteen year old
gray-blue kitty cat.
I’m a good cat mom.
I love that little fucker so much.
The two of you
have wiring all around my heart.