there’s a light between my legs

there’s a light between my legs

it’s everlasting like that sanctuary blaze

that oil lamp of infinity 

maybe if you kiss me

where i’m wet and misty

you’ll feel eternity on your tongue

like you’ve just begun to live

once, i almost died

i looked into my own eyes

a deep brown mirror of fearlessness

and i cried

because we never really die

but we do hide 

there’s a light i’ve had to find

between my thighs

inside my sigh

a pulsing kind of pleasure

that never asks me to be better

just present, and open, and true

when i met you

when i met you 

the pain between my legs was like 

a baby born with fangs

patriarchy bites hard

leaves scars

rips things

i had to learn to touch the tissue tenderly

i had to learn it wasn’t supposed to bleed

i had to learn the ancient moaning sanctity

of flesh, under sheets, in the heat

of ravenous reverence 

i had to learn to ask 

and not mask my desire with expectation or obligation

with possession or resentful repression

i had to learn the excruciating vulnerability of wanting

i had to learn that i’m wanted 

that i’m wanted 

that i’m wanted

for more than just the light between my legs

i had to learn by being brave

with my achey little heart

and asking for the love

that got torn apart 

when i was a kid

isn’t this everything?

there’s a light between my legs

it travels through my belly

up my chest 

between my breasts

into my throat where i know how to speak so clearly

there’s a light on my tongue 

a song being sung 

a salvation song

this little light of mine

i’m gonna let it shine

this little light of mine

i’m gonna let it shine

there’s a light inside my soul

that knows

how to multiply trust

how to feed healthy lust

how to gush honesty 

because i’m worth it

because you’re worth it

because we’re worth it 

no matter where we started

or how hard our hearts have become

no matter what kind of dark muck 

got stuck inside our sanctuaries 

there’s an everlasting light 

that burns so incredibly bright

and we’re here to remember to tend that fire

until we’re not afraid of our desire

to be held

to be seen

to be all the things that make us human

right in plain sight

together

the time to wait

"What if what you're scared of
is just out-of-practice excitement?" he asks.
And for a whole hour, I lay there, still,
letting my heart thaw out its sad volcano,
as he grazes and kisses me
like he has the time to wait.

matter

will you fuck me like i matter? 

i actually asked someone this one time

after he said to me, 

tell me you want me

i said, is that what you need to hear?

and he said, yes

and i said, okay, 

i want you so fucking bad

put you cock in me right now

and he entered me

and the hard of me softened 

into a volcano of sadness

and i asked it

i asked,

can i ask you something vulnerable?

with his hard dick tucked inside me

yeah... he said softly, earnestly

and i looked him square in his circular eyes

will you fuck me like i matter?

and he said, oh my god, you think you don't matter?

rachael! rachael! 

you think you don't matter?

and i said, yeah, soft as a mouse

and so he tried

and so did i

to let him love me

even though he didn't know me

could barely see me

definitely didn't feel me

and i didn't feel the relief 

i was hoping for

but i did know 

there was more

and maybe one day,
i would let that in

love hangover elixir

for when you live alone, and he leaves, and you're not sure when he's coming back. 

1. go to his website. listen to this poem podcast. remember, you live forever in him.
2. write a list of all the things you love about love.
3. ...like the way it can come into you slower than you've known.
4. the way it makes you want more.
5. the way life hurts without it.
6. the way this pain reminds you always about it.
7. the way it hogs all the attention.
8. the way, after all these years hungry to devour it, you still haven't gotten that great at growing it.
9. watch garden state.
10. smoke some pot.
11. clean the house.
12. remember the ocean is out there. go.
13. write words in the quiet.
14. take baths in the quiet.
15. do headstands in the quiet.
16. quit facebook for a while.
17. go back to bikram.
18. read cards like the good old days.
19. burn some old scrolls in a lil ritual.
20. make dinner plans with friends.
21. buy a wetsuit.
22. swim in the ocean.
23. listen to jolie holland and radiohead and lionel richie.
24. call jen & jodi.
25. take a solo road trip to someplace with trees and flowers.
26. meet another lover at a poly event or through friends.
27. have chris come stay for a while.
28. read each other emotional things.
29. make love.
30. remember something you've deeply forgotten.
31. write a lil song about it.
32. dream of merging hearts with someone.
33. allow it.

34. bonus! invite the people from the plant nursery to dinner.

i take back the invitation for you to be close to me

"I take back the invitation
for you to come close to me," 

I declared to the wind four times, 

like the elders taught me. 

I am holding the line,
holding out,
holding space.

Soft strength.
Halos of boundaries.
Eyes on the prize before it arrives.

It's a sweaty faith.
The kind that'll save me
years of pretending
I'm okay with settling.
I'm okay with the illusion
of quick fix confusions.

Nah.
That ain't for me.
I don't want the love drugs.
The heated spike.
The cold come down.

I want the hugs that stay in the hard places.
The hand to the heart embracing the scars.
The love alchemy.
That's me.
That's my kinda we.

I take back the invitation
for you to come close to me.
Cuz baby, we do love differently.

precious & alive

a brown blanket of leaves covered the forest floor, and i trekked in my white cowgirl boots over the thorns, up and down the valleys, until i arrived at a strange effigy some other forest dweller built--a tomb of sorts, pointing up toward the heavens.

i was in limbo between a cancer diagnosis and a surgery. my vulva felt like bricks of density and a thousand cutting knives all at once. they say melanoma is painless, but when it comes from trauma, the phantom hurt can kill you.

"lay down," the cool ground whispered. "empty out." and the deep freeze of my body met the endless allowing of Earth, and the blue baby sky watched as i prayed for the ache to melt into golden-brown honey.

"use me. use me however you want. just take this pain so i can actually serve."

and the surgeon's name was dr. grace. and his silver hair and his khaki skin, blue eyes and affirming hand, moved like angel medicine cutting me out, sewing me up.

and the therapist's name was brigit. and her hands were like shapeshifting Earth, pressing into my feral elements, my endless emergencies, my emerging self-security, my vulnerable timidity.

and the lover's name was whisky, until it was music, until it was words. and he never asked anything of me, other than honesty.

and eventually, a small seed of life inside my body began to emerge like on the first day of spring after a winter full of snowfall wet the ground. like a tiny flame of desire, the smallest fire of want.

and i pressed my hands into someone else's body, someone less like me, more like Earth, and i felt the places where i couldn't even feel hurt, couldn't feel anything at all. and i felt small. so very small. and precious, and honest, and alive.

heaving.

i've got this shell.
it's made up of words.
i wear them on the outer layer of me...
it's a sexy filigree
but it's not naked.

i've got a couple men who are trying to undress me.
i wish i could let them--
get so naked i'd wanna dance,
or cry.

i don't know why
but my heart has stopped feeling.

goddess, if you're listening,
bring the lust back,
bring it heaving.

have me weeping
and trusting
all in one.

make it fun
and sweet
and nourishing.

make me feel strong
and held
and soul family.

make me family.
but happy.
and incredibly sexy.