I wrote this poem many years ago in Thailand. I was practicing vipassana meditation in a temple with Buddhist monks and nuns. In deep meditation, a field of sacred desire opened within me. This poem arose from that field.
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The mind’s eye…
The heart’s grotto…
The body’s pleasure…
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Deep forest
Twilight
Sun filtering through trees
Jungle sounds, monkeys
Moss, streams
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Spirit swells
Invisible
A soft evening breeze
Whispering through the glen
Rustling playful leaves
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Faire l’amor, sighs she…
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A woman’s sex
Is the ripest fruit in the world
Pulsing, growing, slick, alive
Making love to itself
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Nature’s replicas
Woman: Flower
Feminine anatomy
Like petals
Pink
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In the beginning, wet
Tiny bud
Biology’s pulse
Blossoming
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Now,
Full blown rose
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Drop any man’s name in this space, and I will make love to him
Shai… Gilad… Andrew… Reive…
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Riding the back of a motorbike
Setting sun
Open legs
Wrapped around a man's back
Throbbing
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Bare shouldered monks, saffron robes
Sun glinting off their skin
Tattooed
Holy
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Forbidden fruit
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Cums
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In so many forms