Each heartbeat is a call of love for you;

a yearning of Divine desire to dance

love’s hand mingled sharing, entangled

swaying, craving of gaze, craving of touch.

To dance together embraced, with steps,

in places, only we two can create.


I long to lovingly unravel you.
Tug gently the fine silken filaments
Of your divine, sensual vestements,
Slowly exposing your shyness to view.

Pre-dawn, and your hips are cradled softly

By your mattress which  I envy,

Body contoured sheets, each light breath carressed

By your sighing,  rising angelic breast.

Tonight’s moon rises

Like a glowing effervescent bubble from our flask,

Filled with our love’s magical wine.

It’s time for us to pass the drink between us

And wander our days and nights drunk with happiness


Lost in the Forest – Pablo Neruda

Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig
and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips:
maybe it was the voice of the rain crying,
a cracked bell, or a torn heart.

Love, I was lost in the woods this week. I went there myself, of course. You came looking for me. Every time You called my name I made myself still and quiet.  I wanted to become like a dryad and pour my sorrows to the Earth.

Something from far off it seemed
deep and secret to me, hidden by the earth,
a shout muffled by huge autumns,
by the moist half-open darkness of the leaves.

I wanted to be secret with my sadness, Love. Growing ever more tired of myself, I still listened with comfort as your patient footsteps crossed the wide forest, searching for me. But I would not reveal myself to You. I wanted to emerge into the bright meadow on my own time.

Wakening from the dreaming forest there, the hazel-sprig
sang under my tongue, its drifting fragrance
climbed up through my conscious mind

Your humming search-song drifted along, deeper into the forest. It lulled me to sleep; after several days and nights I woke up with a start and ran for the light at the edge of the wood, sure You would be waiting there for me.

as if suddenly the roots I had left behind
cried out to me, the land I had lost with my childhood –
and I stopped, wounded by the wandering scent.

And in the meadow I found your smoldering fire, and your blue coat, and your small shelter, and the pillow for your beautiful cheek, all moist with rain. I know You’re still amongst the trees Love, not looking for me, but claimed for a time by the wild wood and its deep shade. You will find the soft emerald moss by the cyclamen where I laid and hid, and the love I left for You there.

I will tend the fire and dry your things by sunlight, awaiting your return.

Over the reeds the

The twilight mists rise and settle.

The wild ducks cry out

As the evening turns cold.

Lover how I long for you.

Anonymous Frontier Guard from the Manyoshu

My view from the platform as a train pulls away from me. I think to myself,

“Lotte and I should ride the rest of the way together.”

And then I see the song you posted for me here http://blip.fm/~iqqmt

I’ll wait for you too, Love.

What a crazy love sync! No coincidences.


How do these things happen?  On the verge,   then a fistful of yellow trouser leg.

Alert with You!


From Lotte's Angelic Hands


With each cookie’s deep chocolate and cherry flavor, I taste the measuring, gentle sifting and intense mixing done by your hands;  savor the intense look of your eyes as your fingers warmly form the firm dough;  with each small tender bite I sample the spiced moistness of your lips.  Then, after one of your delicacies has been completely enjoyed,  I play with and fold over in my mind the delicious tension of time until your next delight I hold in my hand and taste upon my tongue.



Hopeless Romantics

Thousand Mile Music

A Loaf of Bread, A Jug of Wine and Thou

"Lotte and Gyre" banner illustration by Edmund Dulac from Omar Khayyam's "Rubaiyat," translated by Edward Fitzgerald, 1909.