it may all be illusion, but it is holographic

every cell, every emotional frequency of this vehicle

that’s what the body is for, blessed service

faint sunlight on new green shingles on the roof next door

my friend in the sauna yesterday said,

I’m sensitive, but I’m glad I’m not as sensitive as you.

extra slab of flesh on my belly, too much popcorn and chocolate

impulse to try to soothe through the mouth,

which only seems to inflame it. except for one thing

smell touch taste, sharing tendrils of light.

though my mouth did not inflame, my desire for him did,

a thousandfold, so be it. now I suffer the loss

the mouth thinks it wants to be filled

the hole thinks it wants to be filled, but then they feel sick.

They don’t want to be filled. They want to be soothed.

They want the movement of the milk, of the nectar, through them

but not filled up like a closed container , movement through

seed essence through Mandala, fill my chalice with elixir

it overflows and then shatters, hanging onto nothing.

The shadow parts hide in the holes, but they want to be found.

The hands want to touch from the hole,

the eyes want to look from the hole, but they will never be satisfied. We take the eyeballs for a walk around the sacred circle

with the Rapid Awakened Protector,

with the pink Medicine Buddha. Supreme Glory Free from Sorrow,

with the Swift One of Heroic Glory, with the Immortal Yogi, vase body

and everything starts to drain, we empty out,

empty out all the channels and holes

shame perpetuates the unconscious trance of acting out the karma

protector, partner, lover, and sexual consort, father to children, intimate friend , the holy vow, Medicine Husband,

respect of man and woman for each other, Reindeer Husband,

crystal rod in my spine, Christ Light between the antlers.

unrelenting grief and shame that he does not want me for his wife, understanding this makes no sense, it was never a possibility.

the romantic projection of a one and only everlasting true love dissolves in the embodied awareness

that I am already inseparable from my Twin Flame Beloved.

but what about my love story Magdalena?

the stomach tries to not feel the pain,

thereby shutting down the pleasure

Bhakti of unconditional love and devotion

direct transmission of lavender-scented honey

stars and serpents in the Tree of Life, pinecone in the brain

Taku Skanskan, Holy Breath, all that moves

I played more music for us and the lovemaking, hours at a time

than I have played for myself in the past nine years

forgiveness for self that the listening to music

can be so evocative of sorrow and unfulfilled longing

pulsating rhythms, medicine songs in Spanish

tender melodies, and everything in between

they inhabit the God realm in my mind

his beautiful smell and muscled arms

their perfect yoga and diets with green drinks and tea of the right kind their perfect life of prayer and ceremony

and spending time at the ocean

all projected illusion from snippets of images I have seen

I liberate the God realms inside of myself

and my having fallen from them

and the hungry ghost and hell realms who are so tormented

by what they perceive is happening in physicality

my loss, someone else’s gain

in the dark, there is less fear of being seen

my loved ones actually come closer, there is no shame of them

pressing against me, breathing with me, my hunger can show itself

my passion can open, the blue hung can easily glide down

to touch the red seed essence, and up to touch the white

so they can join their virtue

when I feel obstacle it is best if I draw close to myself

lift the pelvic floor and press the diaphragm down, vase body

offer up the eyeballs so the gripping can relax

energies settle and breath softens again

tender allowance for the eyes that don’t want to look up

when the sun is bright or there is glare

connect through the Heart, Torus Tube

remembering my shamanic origins as Santa Claus

Saint Nicola, Saint Catherine, flying reindeer

though I don’t need to ingest the medicine, I Am the Medicine

courage to stay present in these places

with the autonomic contractions in my body

to let the sickness pass through, there is ease, there is challenge

I have the skill, I have all the help, I remember my reindeer husband

my Medicine husband, in this place and it looks like him

I continue to cut roots of confused presentations

and honor what is True

birth of the Christ Light between the antlers of the reindeer

Yeshua the Master and his Magdalena, as shaman, as yogin

they did not have to take the mushrooms either

we can transmute all words and sounds through the throat chakra

even those that we hear or read, though we may not be speaking them

all sound is mantra

I come into my sensuality to come into practice,

to be ready for my yidam, my secret lover

pile of spiral silver earrings, glitter and pearl

behind the post in the bathroom stall