tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70381685781178606552024-03-13T05:16:50.430-07:00The Passionate MindThe blog of author/poet/artist R. Paul SardanasR. Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01630766946235458628noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038168578117860655.post-78417519343061764882011-09-26T17:05:00.000-07:002011-09-26T17:08:16.985-07:00Othello Falling: Hope Among the Facets of Abuse<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">September 26, 2011</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">“Othello Falling” has now reached Act Three, and here is where the decisions about structuring the classic play in a different way are being keenly felt. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Because this is a two-person performance, made up entirely of dialogue and internal thought that moves between Othello and Desdemona, there was no place for one of Shakespeare’s greatest villains, Iago. In the play, the venomous Iago puts into motion all of the elements that destroy the tragic lovers. He insinuates constantly to Othello that Desdemona has not been faithful; he makes sure the damning evidence of the lost handkerchief is placed in the possession of Cassio (Othello’s perceived rival); and as Iago proclaims piety, loyalty and honesty, he lies to and manipulates all involved, in order to fan high the flames of jealousy and violence.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">But in real-life abusive relationships, there are no Iagos, or at the very least they are clothed in the colors of troubled life, not the pure black of villainy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The descent into cruelty and tragic violence is precipitated by many of the factors that have been introduced already in this play-in-poetry: flawed and unrealistic preconceptions between partners; generational and cultural histories of abusive behavior; objectifying of individuals and lack of communication; an environment where home feels unstable, isolated and untrustworthy.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B7pjzld4E8A/ToESa1maLFI/AAAAAAAAAEM/DogmTyvBr_M/s1600/illustration-of-othello-and-desdemona-in-a-scene-from-william-shakespeares-play-othello.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kca="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B7pjzld4E8A/ToESa1maLFI/AAAAAAAAAEM/DogmTyvBr_M/s320/illustration-of-othello-and-desdemona-in-a-scene-from-william-shakespeares-play-othello.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">The events of Scene Three provide many challenges to me as a writer, and to Jaeda and myself as performers. Desdemona, after a traumatic episode in which she had every reason to believe her new husband dead, is reunited with him, but during an intimate moment she is gripped by flashbacks of an abusive childhood event which does much to explain her alienation and disdain earlier displayed toward her father. Feeling helpless and ashamed, she cannot bring herself to confide these feelings to Othello. This is a pervasive, sad (and unwarranted) syndrome among battered women: many consider themselves “damaged”, or in some way responsible for the abuse done to them. This is no more their fault than the abuse itself—abusers will often emotionally manipulate their victims into a state of fear that should they tell anyone, they will be not be believed, and subsequently loathed and ostracized. In addition, they are burdened with further fear that even if they are believed, no one could possibly love a “spoiled” or “stained” partner. The cruelty of this kind of conditioning from abusers is vicious indeed. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Making matters worse both in real life and in “Othello Falling” is the sad fact that confiding these feelings and experiences to one’s lover hardly insures a compassionate and supportive response. Many men, to their discredit, would respond exactly as the woman has been conditioned to fear: with anger, expressions of betrayal, and the inflicting of further hurt. Othello is not Iago; he is not an evil man, bent on destruction. But neither is he an enlightened man in the arena of love and complex relationships. He lives in what he perceives to be an uncompromising world, filled with absolutes. Often used by the powers that he serves, he has been conditioned to expect that kind of interaction between people, and trust has become an elusive concept for him. He has many self-doubts and repressed angers. He states that “honesty is more important than life” – a noble ideal, except for the fact that what constitutes honesty for him are simplistic and unrealistic concepts of perfect mental and physical loyalty and openness. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">So Desdemona displays a brief interlude of troubled distance from her lover, and not comprehending, Othello interprets this as evidence that her love for him has faded already. He begins to poison his own thoughts with jealous fantasies and feelings of being tricked and wronged. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Would the results have been any different had the lovers attempted hard but clear communication of their feelings? In this play, with these characters, probably not. And that is part of the ongoing tragedy of this type of interaction in real life, too. But in real life things are not always so absolute as they are in a play. There are ways to break free from a relationship filled with hurt and a dead end of violence and pain. That’s why this benefit is happening, and why (even if there is no hope for Othello and Desdemona), there is hope for the rest of us.<br />
<br />
Visit the <a href="http://www.rpaulsardanas.com/othellofalling.html"><span style="color: yellow;">OTHELLO FALLING BENEFIT SITE</span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div>R. Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01630766946235458628noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038168578117860655.post-3051492016143049082011-08-24T17:33:00.000-07:002011-08-24T17:36:41.201-07:00Othello Falling, Week Three: Broken Visions of Sexuality<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">In the third week of the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Othello Falling</i> benefit, I delve deeper into the sexual relationship of Othello and Desdemona. It’s a part of the play that has been controversial for different reasons in the past. Race, of course, has given the physical side of the marriage a “forbidden” aspect, more or less so depending on the current state of society – but it’s clear upon reading the original Shakespeare that it is not a morality piece about race. Shakespeare’s choice of Othello’s ethnicity comes from the play’s roots, as it is <span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">based on the Italian short story "Un Capitano Moro" ("A Moorish Captain") by Cinthio, first published in 1565.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
In fact there are no overt sex scenes in the play. But in the relationship of the characters, as is true in many relationships that become violent or abusive, sexuality plays a large part. The “Othello” paintings of Nabil Kanso (huge canvases filled with primary colors and fevered sensual imagery), seem to portray the entire relationship as a tortured sexual one. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XHCaHu3q8Ik/TlWYQWutD3I/AAAAAAAAAEI/asVKe4w0yNE/s1600/Nabil+Kanso+Othello.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="283" qaa="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XHCaHu3q8Ik/TlWYQWutD3I/AAAAAAAAAEI/asVKe4w0yNE/s320/Nabil+Kanso+Othello.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I have, in my experience assisting battered women, known many who told me they stayed with their abuser in part because of fear and intimidation, and in part because they felt the sexually romantic lover who initially wooed them must still be present somehow – still accessible, and it was impossible to give up on the belief that the passionate love they shared was somehow unreal. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I think it’s safe to say that communication between individuals is often at its most flawed when it should be at its best: during sexual bonding. People hide their feelings, or pour them out—they make assumptions, take on roles that they feel are expected or desired—vulnerability and intensity go hand in hand, carving volatile new paths into the psyche; or unearthing old, painful experiences, which each new bonding was supposed to have made all better.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">My goal in this poetic interpretation, of course, is to try and illuminate some of the factors that contribute to violent relationships. And so as I look at the wedding night of Othello and Desdemona, I see him troubled by the passionate sexuality she displays: as a soldier, he is used to passion being displayed by camp followers (prostitutes), and to see similar lights of passion in his wife’s eyes is difficult for him to reconcile. He has idealized married love (particularly to a noblewoman, like Desdemona), and expected some kind of revelation in her sensual behavior – an impossible mix of goddess-like detachment from sexuality while at the same time enjoying it with him. At first he blames himself for not seeing that in her, but that will change, as the seeds of possessiveness and jealously grow. As for Desdemona, she continues to exalt her marriage as a symbol of new freedom and strength, and puts Othello in her mind far above the petty aristocratic noblemen who have surrounded her in the past. He is not really there as a person in her perceptions, and so she misses every signal of his sudden doubt in her qualities as a woman of “great heart”. They are objects to one another, and this, more than anything, lays the groundwork for the feelings of mutual betrayal that are soon to grow into violence.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"></div><br />
R. Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01630766946235458628noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038168578117860655.post-4071073600085206452011-08-16T17:18:00.000-07:002011-08-16T17:18:40.440-07:00"Othello Falling" Production Diary - After the First Weekend<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Othello Falling</i> Production Diary</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">August 16, 2011</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">The opening of the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Othello Falling</i> benefit was exciting and satisfying – so many friends stood up and made their support known, by commenting, re-posting the links to the benefit site all across the internet, and offering the kindest words to Jaeda and myself for the effort we are making. A special thank-you to Gina, Kristaline, Lisa, Lucy and Rose, who went above and beyond in their support, advice and encouragement. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I think my favorite moment in the aftermath of the opening was a note from Jaeda (who had never heard my voice before), telling me that her feathered housemate, Birdie Boy, had begun to warble at the sound of my recitation as Othello. What more delightful validation could there be than that?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">But of course there is much more to do, and I quickly settled myself down to continue the project. My thoughts had always been clear in my mind that I wanted to follow the first recitation, which introduced Othello and Desdemona on their wedding day, with vows exchanged between the two. Somehow in those vows I wanted to display, subtly at first, the gap between their visions of one another and the realities that would very quickly begin to pull apart their harmony together. Othello, in his vows, out and out admits he is puzzled why Desdemona should love him. He is much older, and has known very little in his life but war. He sees pleasure and fire in her eyes, and tells himself that there can be no other reason for that than honest love, for he has no “temptations” to offer her – equal youth, or cultured learning – that might be serving to cloud her perception. And this is of course true, though his perception of that love will change, as his own self-doubts gnaw at him. For Desdemona, my writing of her character has grown in many ways since I first heard Jaeda read the part. I always thought of Desdemona as a strong woman (as I believe Shakespeare portrayed her, though this is not always brought out in theatric productions), but Jaeda’s Desdemona is fierce and fiery indeed, making me think her character has been brought to a high-strung emotional edge herself, from a lifetime of being controlled and used like a possession. In the rebellious act of her marriage to Othello she sees an end to servitude, and a freedom to be strong with a man who should be accustomed to strength; in her eyes he has emerged from war and strife with what she feels is nobility and a form of proud wisdom. In short, she is quite blind to his doubts and troubled sense of self-worth. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KvKYsTbfxj8/TksICtAYMUI/AAAAAAAAAEE/kwsu7FFOG5E/s1600/othello_2_lg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KvKYsTbfxj8/TksICtAYMUI/AAAAAAAAAEE/kwsu7FFOG5E/s320/othello_2_lg.jpg" width="147" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I think these currents of emotion and expectation echo what happens in many relationships that become abusive. The baggage carried into the relationship – old violence, self-doubt, idealization of one’s partner based on flawed perception – is ignored in the beginning, but ignoring it only lights an unseen fuse, which will haunt and shadow the sometimes nearly-mad happiness of passionate infatuation.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">So the wedding vows of Othello and Desdemona are in fact poignantly sad and unknowingly desperate…neither one truly sees the other at all.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div>Visit the ongoing <em>Othello Falling</em> benefit against abuse <a href="http://www.rpaulsardanas.com/othellofalling.html"><span style="color: yellow;">HERE</span></a><br />
Visit Community Action Stops Abuse <a href="http://www.casa-stpete.org/"><span style="color: yellow;">HERE</span></a>R. Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01630766946235458628noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038168578117860655.post-70538006501824034382011-08-13T19:43:00.000-07:002011-08-13T20:02:13.876-07:00Curtain Up on "Othello Falling"<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: small;">A diary on the creation of <i>Othello Falling</i>, by R. Paul Sardanas</span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span class="text">Today the curtain is going up, after a busy week pulling together all the threads of this production. Of course at the same time I've been working at my full time day job, and taking care of home, but I've felt a tremendous thread </span><span class="text">of excitement growing as the opening day has come closer and closer. For a long time, while pondering a second benefit to support Community Action Stops Abuse (and the fifth anniversary of the Poets Against Abuse movement), I deliberated on how best to meld entertainment and enlightenment in a form that people could enjoy for its own sake, and come away from with a determination to do whatever they can to oppose cruelty and abuse --whether that might be to donate to CASA (the beneficiary of this benefit, a safe haven organization for women and children trying to free themselves from domestic and other abuse), or simply to try and be more conscious in their own lives...to choose, as often as possible, thoughtfulness, consideration, and kindness when dealing with the </span><span class="text">hard issues within relationships. Instead of anger...instead of hurt.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="text">I chose Othello as the vehicle for the benefit early on. I've always been entranced by the story, and of course the characters would give me as a writer the strong centers of thought and emotion that I wanted -- to explore the kind of dark passions that give rise to abuse and violence. So I sat down with my many "Othello" themed books: Nabil Kanso's brilliant, dark and sensual collection of Othello paintings...Harold Bloom's insightful exploration of the themes of the play...several novels based on the story...my favorite movie version, with a young Laurence Fishburne (later of Matrix fame) as the Moor. They were all wonderful, all inspiring. So in typical mad fashion, I decided to mirror them all. A series of oil paintings that will soon begin to appear on the site, a book that I can sell </span><span class="text">to benefit CASA, and the crowning segment of the benefit, a performance of a kind of play framed into poetry, to post and run online.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="text">Though no actor (if I were to step on a stage, I'm certain my face would turn bright red, and I would forget every word in the English language), I resolved to take on the part of Othello. For Desdemona, I have many dear friends </span><span class="text">that I might have asked, but one stood out in a brilliant spotlight in my mind: Jaeda DeWalt, a spoken-word poet, a luminous creator of photographic art, and a person with a powerful spirit and heart.</span></span></span></span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H_F2G5g1RX8/Tkc1rbl_9hI/AAAAAAAAAEA/3AcH324N6LU/s1600/jaeda1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><img border="0" height="201" naa="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H_F2G5g1RX8/Tkc1rbl_9hI/AAAAAAAAAEA/3AcH324N6LU/s320/jaeda1.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><br />
<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="text">Jaeda and I have never met...we live about as geographically far apart in the continental <country-region w:st="on">U.S.</country-region> as possible (the Pacific Northwest and the Gulf <place w:st="on"><placetype w:st="on">shore</placetype> of <placename w:st="on">Florida</placename></place>). But we have been friends for years, and she took part in the original Poets Against Abuse benefit I organized in 2006. I have watched her unfold one astonishing creation after another as a creator and artist, and she has always applauded as I worked within my own creative and </span><span class="text">collaborative artistic world. When I asked Jaeda, I of course braced myself that she might be too busy with her own amazing career...but she didn't hesitate for a moment, telling me she would be honored to be Desdemona for this benefit. I described the concept and sent her Desdemona's first recitation, assuring her that I would totally respect the demands of her schedule, asking her to create an mp3 reading when she could, to launch the benefit. Within 24 hours, it was in my mailbox. Jaeda, you are just too much.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="text">And so here we are, the curtain about to rise. We will add to the growing play-in-poetry every week, unless the demands of life interrupt...and I am proud and happy beyond words to offer this creation, along with the hope that people who are touched by it will walk away desiring -- in whatever small or large fashion -- to embrace an end to cruelty.</span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
Visit the "Othello Falling" Benefit </span></span><a href="http://rpaulsardanas.com/othellofalling.html"><span style="background-color: black; color: yellow;">HERE</span></a>R. Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01630766946235458628noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038168578117860655.post-53227611422586673732011-08-07T09:35:00.000-07:002011-08-07T10:09:42.546-07:00Poetry Against AbuseIn 2006, I had the honor of publishing a collection of remarkable poets, all of whom donated their work in an effort to support survivors of abuse. The "Nox" collection appeared both in print and online, and all benefits from its sale went to a safe haven organization called CASA (Community Action Stops Abuse), which provides support to women and children struggling to free themselves from environments of abuse in their lives.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zQgILSMFT-Q/Tj67ZdZyi2I/AAAAAAAAAD4/tmPzeZ-oj1A/s1600/Nox_Cover_06-420x600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zQgILSMFT-Q/Tj67ZdZyi2I/AAAAAAAAAD4/tmPzeZ-oj1A/s320/Nox_Cover_06-420x600.jpg" t$="true" width="224" /></a></div>To celebrate the five-year anniversary of that book, I am producing another collection, this time solely of my own poetic works, to again benefit CASA. "Othello Falling" will explore themes of jealousy, passion and violence from the Shakespeare play, with the hope of illuminating how loving relationships can spiral down into pain and hurt. Perhaps through that awareness, men and women caught in that terrible cycle can find keys to change that downward spiral in their own lives -- to seek for healing and safety.<br />
<br />
As the book evolves I will post excerpts from it here and on my website, along with a series of oil paintings that will accompany the poetry. When "Othello Falling" is released, all profits from its sale will go to benefit Community Action Stops Abuse.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AhDeOq4A0H4/Tj69MQi4oBI/AAAAAAAAAD8/cvKJr1RlJE4/s1600/Othello_Falling_Cover_with_border-252x353.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AhDeOq4A0H4/Tj69MQi4oBI/AAAAAAAAAD8/cvKJr1RlJE4/s320/Othello_Falling_Cover_with_border-252x353.jpg" t$="true" width="228" /></a></div><br />
So today I look back to honor over forty poets and artists who contributed to "Nox", including the writer who inspired it, Don McGregor, and many dear friends who donated their creative power from all over the world. The online collection can still be viewed by clicking the highlighted link below, and there are many further links on the anthology pages to CASA, for anyone who would like to learn more about the work they do:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.gromagonpress.com/nox.html"><span style="background-color: yellow; font-size: large;">The Nox Anthology: Poets Against Abuse</span></a><br />
<br />
I also look forward, recognizing that the work to provide support and catharsis, healing and safety to abuse survivors never ends, but our caring and creativity can shine a light into that dark place, and offer hope.R. Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01630766946235458628noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038168578117860655.post-89962237281151444122011-06-25T20:15:00.000-07:002011-06-25T20:19:11.383-07:00The Man Who Drew HumanityIt's been a year of too many goodbyes. <br />
<br />
Gene Colan passed away this week, almost exactly a year after the passing of his wife, Adrienne. Gene was an illustrator of monumental achievements, known worldwide for the fluid grace and power of his creations. To pinpoint the moment I became a fan of his work, you'd have to go all the way back to 1968, when as a ten year old, I picked up a magazine he had illustrated called Dr. Strange...and I was hooked for life. <br />
<br />
In a medium not known (at the time) for emotional depth, Gene's illustrations showed dimension and subtlety, capturing above all the countless nuances of the human face and form. As I grew from the boy enraptured by the dynamism and emotion of his art into a young man striving to find my own voice as a creator, I would return again and again to Gene's work, because above all I wanted to explore the depths and subtlety within people, and his art was a beacon shining across that landscape.<br />
<br />
Thirty-seven years after I picked up that Dr. Strange book, far along my own creative path as a poet, I found out that Gene and his wife were living not far from the part of Florida I had recently relocated to myself. I was shy about the idea of approaching him; he had been one of my idols for so long, he seemed on an unapproachable plane to me. But I had heard across the years that he was a remarkably warm and open man, and so I took a deep breath and wrote to him, expressing my admiration for his work, and thanking him for the inspiration he had given me in my life.<br />
<br />
Gene wrote back immediately. He wanted to know all about me; he was genuinely delighted that I had written. His wife Adrienne also sent a note, saying that she was an avid lover of poetry and had done a web search on my name -- she had found and read a number of my works, and was just as delighted as Gene at the opportunity for us to become friends.<br />
<br />
For a long time I remained starstruck, but they were so gracious, so enthusiastic, so warm. I fell in love with them both. My own Mom had passed away over twenty years before, and my Dad was distant and indifferent; I thought perhaps it was unfair of me to feel so drawn to Gene and Adrienne in the filling of that void, but in the years that followed, their interest in my life never wavered. I would write poems for them on holidays, and Adrienne would write me long letters telling me her own favorites among the great poets (many of which we shared). She laughed and told me wildly funny jokes, and Gene would cheer every time a new work of mine appeared. I had begun a philanthropic effort called "Poets Against Abuse", inspired by a story done by another idol of mine, Don McGregor, and Gene. Both of these great-hearted men gave me permission to include their work in an online anthology to support survivors of abuse, asking nothing but the honor of helping women and children caught in environments of pain and danger. <br />
<br />
In 2006 we talked for the first time about Gene illustrating one of my works. Along with his career drawing the exploits of larger-than-life characters and superheroes, he had a keen interest in what he called "Fine Art", and had done sublime and powerful portraits and other non-commercial works. But he didn't want to draw something easy. He asked me to choose the most complex, most emotionally layered of my works...and after much deliberation, I sent him a long poem I had written called "Dining on Twilight", in which I explored the difficult emotions in my parents' marriage right up to her death from cancer, cast in a kind of mythic imagery. A challenging work even for me to get a grip on. I thought Gene would say I was crazy -- that it could not be drawn. <br />
<br />
Instead, he wrote to me with immense enthusiasm, saying how much the piece had moved him, and he would love to try creating an image for it. He told me he didn't want to let me down, and asked me question after question about my own emotions in creating it. Finally he said he was ready, and in a few months he would send me the work. When he did, I was staggered by its beauty, its depth, and its amazing grasp of the humanity in a man and woman who loved one another but struggled for dominance in a joining filled with both passion and pain. Here it is: Gene Colan's rendering of "Dining on Twilight".<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-INuq634WvFw/TgaeF9VnG1I/AAAAAAAAADs/OPytu2Aai-0/s1600/Dining_on_Twilight_Web-818x645.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="315" i$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-INuq634WvFw/TgaeF9VnG1I/AAAAAAAAADs/OPytu2Aai-0/s400/Dining_on_Twilight_Web-818x645.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
To this day, I look at the drawing in awe. Gene asked me, nervously (to my amazement), if I liked it. I told him he had done the impossible, and captured every emotion, every subtle shade of the poem. He thanked me, and I could only mutter equal thanks in return.<br />
<br />
Gene wanted to do one more of my existing poems, and then, he said, he wished I would write something special for him -- a new work to illustrate, which he would tell me about. The second work we chose was a poem about a man and a woman walking in a blizzard, and feeling only warmth, as they were lost in their love for each other. Here it is, called "Plough and Stars".<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nzgEvTwFbmY/TgafoX__ZgI/AAAAAAAAADw/N6qAaBZQBiE/s1600/Deeley_Colan_Plough_and_Stars-805x660.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="327" i$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nzgEvTwFbmY/TgafoX__ZgI/AAAAAAAAADw/N6qAaBZQBiE/s400/Deeley_Colan_Plough_and_Stars-805x660.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Once again, Gene blew me away -- this time with the richness of this evocation of love. <br />
<br />
And so we talked about the third piece. It would never be completed, as Gene's health declined, and tragedy would arrive in the death of his beloved Adrienne. But I wrote the poem for it, after a long talk with Gene in which he described to me a visionary image of what he felt love to be. He had moved from the painful, complex image of my parents, to the loving and warm depiction of a love that could defy all worldly cold -- his own vision of love went beyond death itself. In it he saw a man on a train platform in winter, and as he stood there a vision of spring would appear, as frozen vines and plants around him would seem to spring into life. A train would appear, coming toward the platform, and at that point he realized that he had died, and had been waiting -- the train would be carrying the love of his life, and soon they would be reunited. I don't think Gene ever envisioned a world in which his beloved Adrienne would be gone before him, and so he was the man on the platform, and she the one who would come to him. It didn't work out that way. <br />
<br />
Though the third drawing was never done, it lives now in my mind. And it is Adrienne who has been waiting on the platform, for the love of her life to join her. In my heart and in my dreams, they will always be together. I am grateful beyond all words for the chance to have had them both in my life. Here they are, and here is the poem I wrote from Gene's vision.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gK_Rbv7MQNQ/Tgah4lq_ZXI/AAAAAAAAAD0/uFjv-qDZQS0/s1600/Gene+and+Adrienne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i$="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gK_Rbv7MQNQ/Tgah4lq_ZXI/AAAAAAAAAD0/uFjv-qDZQS0/s320/Gene+and+Adrienne.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">On the Platform</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dedicated to Gene Colan</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">In the middle distance, </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">the tracks seemed to run together</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">into a single line, until they turned,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">bending from sight, </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">in the direction that she would come.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">He stood on the train platform</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">with afternoon dimming.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">A brief lull in the day’s snowfall;</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">lights would soon bathe </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">the stark, grey space</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">in yellow radiance,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">waiting.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Behind him was a high concrete wall,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">and there were roots and vines,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">January stark, clinging to the stone.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">At winter’s close, perhaps, </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">they would yearn for color, </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">to thicken,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">graced with hints </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">that would be flowers, in their time.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">As he watched the wall, </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">the tangled lines of life </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">in hibernation</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">opened out, and he saw thorns,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">ice-covered, on the vines.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">He took off his glove, and reached out,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">resting a fingertip</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">on that tracery of life,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">of withered pain, and the scent</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">of phantom petals against stone.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">He didn’t even feel it prick,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">and was surprised to see</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">a drop of blood left there.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Winter flower, </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">a rose,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">to freeze and grace the wall</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">until the sun came.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">When he’d died, </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">only one thing </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">had been cause for sadness. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Leaving love behind, after so many years,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">to wait here</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">until the day that she would join him.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">The lights had gone down </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">while he’d let his thoughts wander.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">He saw, then</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">the headlamp of the approaching train,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">as it turned that distant bend,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">and came, arrow-straight, </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">pushing a different sun before it.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Soon she would arrive</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">at the platform.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">He would leave his glove off</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">so he could take her hand,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">here, where winter ends.</div>R. Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01630766946235458628noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038168578117860655.post-13404039440688160722011-06-18T10:18:00.000-07:002011-06-19T09:00:41.522-07:00Visionary Sensuality: Creating "Eros - The Divinity of Passion" with H. SamarelI'm often asked what it has been like to work closely with so many artists in my writing career. Friends and readers have seen how devoted I am to the joining of words to art; it's been a fascination of mine since as a young man I fell in love with the visionary works of William Blake, who saw art and poetry as vivid partners in the presentation of ideas. In my own creative world, I have seen my concepts wedded to stunning visuals with gifted artists like David Cuccia, Marge Simon, Gene Colan, Felipe Echevarria, and Steve Mannion. My most recent poetry/art creation is with one of the foremost artists of sensuality in the world: H. Samarel.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mG_tT3YcDKA/TfzYSFsMyjI/AAAAAAAAADA/TzgAsCmzwsU/s1600/erotic-art-header-samarel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="97" i$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mG_tT3YcDKA/TfzYSFsMyjI/AAAAAAAAADA/TzgAsCmzwsU/s320/erotic-art-header-samarel.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Samarel and I have worked together before, creating some intense collaborations of individual poetry and art, but when we decided to do a book together, I knew it was going to be something special.<br />
<br />
How does a book like this take shape? For Samarel and I, there was no need to start from scratch, learning about each other before cautiously taking the steps to craft a book project. He and I have usually worked using the technique of ekphrasis, which is the dramatic re-imagining of a work of visual art. To that end I asked Samarel to choose twenty of his artworks and send them to me to muse over. We discussed the basic feel we wanted for the book, and decided on works that were sensual and powerful, but also less explicit than some of our other works, so that we could strive for a classical feel to the book. Needless to say, when Samarel sent me his choices, I was blown away by their subtlety and strength. I felt that using them we could craft a journey into the heart of passion itself, tying it to spirituality as we went. Here is what I would ultimately write about that in the introduction to the book:<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><em>Spirituality and sexuality are long overdue for a re-connection. Somehow in modern life those two great sources of passion have fallen into conflict. There was a time when respect for the Sacred Feminine was a way of life. Down through history, even patriarchal cultures like that of ancient Rome had a place for the concept of Bona Dea—the Good Goddess—a figure suffused with life, and linked with the pleasures of sexuality. Before that, in the Egyptian personifications of Isis and Osiris, sex was celebrated as an experience leading to resurrection and the soul’s immortality.</em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><em>Contrast that to today, where demonized sex is presented over and over in terms of negativity: lust is a vice, nudity shameful…the hungers of the body considered to be violent things, to be tamed in the name of decency. Needless to say, I don’t agree with that vision of passion.</em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><em>Throughout our separate careers in the arts, Samarel and I have championed the beauty of sexual feelings. The glory of the flesh when set alight with fires of the soul. In this book we explore that, shaping a journey that moves from loneliness and isolation to the reclamation of sexual power, to the tempering and humanizing of that power. The lovers we portray are framed in both darkness and light—ultimately, we hope, finding balance.</em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><em>That we chose a woman for the embodiment of that journey is done in full awareness that our perceptions as men will be tested—carried far into waters that echo the ocean-deep strength of the Sacred Feminine. And if the images burn brightly enough to even partly illuminate those waters, then so too can we join our lovers in journeys of transcendence; incandescent in our desires and their fulfillment; crowned with fiery halos; finding heaven, in each other’s arms</em>.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">So I spread Samarel's twenty images in front of me, and started to order them in a way that I thought fit the goals of that journey. Beginning with loneliness and a desire for empowerment...<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Cut me free</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">from all that is hesitant in my soul.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I have pulled the stars from the sky.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Let the steel of night itself</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">become my sword,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">severing me from weakness.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">A dark incarnation</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">will be the first step.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Filled with frenzied joy;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">wanting nothing more </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">than to scream each climax</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">into the void. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Sky and city crash together;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">all lights of home</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">may be left behind.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The part of me </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">that sadly longed </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">for an embrace to anchor and fill me,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">feels instead the dizzying ascent</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">into the liquid black heavens.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I will be borne</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">on the razor’s edge.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Let me become that which cuts</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">but never bleeds.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HAtt-09Zbs0/TfzbqMAOxXI/AAAAAAAAADI/AdIcGqBtW3Y/s1600/eros-pg-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i$="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HAtt-09Zbs0/TfzbqMAOxXI/AAAAAAAAADI/AdIcGqBtW3Y/s320/eros-pg-11.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">The images take a dark turn: an exploration of desperate and hungry sexuality. <br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">So she rises.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">All generations</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">have had a name for her.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Inanna, Lilith,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Kali, Nox;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">woman of scarlet and obsidian.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">She brings the release</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">that comes from surrender to her.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">She answers to no god.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Approach her as you would</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">a pillar of fire;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">with respect born of time</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">in the cold dark,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">coupled with the lust for heat.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">She is subtle,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">her face curtained in liquid strands</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">behind which her eyes wait,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">knowing you.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">She does not suffer fools.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Seraphim and magi</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">might speak to her</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">as they would </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">to a coyly smiling sphinx;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">considering what words to choose.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Hoping to coax from her</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">all the secrets of evening.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Lovers of this goddess</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">are bold and foolish at once.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">She eats them alive,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">after telling them the word</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">which sets their souls to flight</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">on crippled wings</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">that tremble with ecstasy.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Call her what you will</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">before you die in her arms,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">parting that crimson curtain of her hair</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">to see the deadly, loving</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">abyssal and beautiful eyes,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">knowing you.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gkt89mNxHyQ/Tfzb2I1yrFI/AAAAAAAAADM/upcLMyDJ-bY/s1600/eros-pg-17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i$="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gkt89mNxHyQ/Tfzb2I1yrFI/AAAAAAAAADM/upcLMyDJ-bY/s320/eros-pg-17.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Though intense, those feelings are ultimately unfulfilling, and the journey continues to a place of self-awareness...</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Perhaps…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">perhaps there was </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">too much sound and color,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">too much heat and speed. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Perhaps the ache,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">the unquenchable thirst of want,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">struck too hard;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">dragging me down</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">even as it raised me up.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I overwhelmed my loneliness</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">by enlarging myself;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">embracing the persona</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">of a goddess who stands alone.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I banished emptiness</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">in a dizzying vision of raw sex. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Perhaps I missed</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">a true answer for loneliness,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">for emptiness.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">But where, where do I go?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">In what shape?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">How red should my lips be?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Ensanguined, like blood?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Can I still hold the black</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">of the night sky, of the abyss</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">in the pupils of my eyes?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Can I still be Nox, Mother Night;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">still be Lilith, Wife of Knowledge?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Yes, yes, the answer must be yes. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">But there must be more.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">A deeper legacy to claim,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">that knows…what?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The heart?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Or perhaps</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">just the simplicity of love.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5oZGoMiv5d0/TfzcG5G0FNI/AAAAAAAAADQ/RM_LUOEocdY/s1600/eros-pg-27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5oZGoMiv5d0/TfzcG5G0FNI/AAAAAAAAADQ/RM_LUOEocdY/s320/eros-pg-27.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">...and a re-connection with body, soul, spirit and nature. <br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Life bursts from every pore.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">A sensual communion</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">carrying the seeds </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">of nature’s fierce will</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">to join, to bond, to create.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The burning strength </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">she has carried within her</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">spreads upward</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">along the graceful lines</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">of her legs, her sex,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">her stomach, her breasts.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Everything that has known</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">the joy of growth,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">finds a new home</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">in the heart of her body.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">She is bronzed</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">by rays of a sun</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">that blazes</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">behind her own eyes;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">tendrils of energy,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">having risen to her crown,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">dip down again,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">caressing her </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">in the crackling aura</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">of life, life, life.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Of all the goddesses</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">she has touched,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">bringing them into herself,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">it is Persephone in Spring</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">that possesses her now.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Stolen by a dark lover </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">and carried to the underworld,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">she returns,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">to embody the welcome </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">of a world </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">uncurling in silent heat.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-djidP9UwZG8/TfzcPWyUciI/AAAAAAAAADU/2AQfHhO8IPo/s1600/eros-pg-39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i$="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-djidP9UwZG8/TfzcPWyUciI/AAAAAAAAADU/2AQfHhO8IPo/s320/eros-pg-39.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">From that place, the joining of a couple both sexually and spiritually can happen (and does, as the book concludes).<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">We must never forget, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">or forsake this bond.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Never lose</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">the consummation</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">of our joined souls.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The secret words of sex</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">are no mystery.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Take and offer.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Receive and offer.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Listen,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">listen for the sound</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">of pain to be soothed;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">dreams, so fragile</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">to be nurtured.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">We must remember </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">the dark,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">and how harsh the sun is</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">in our eyes,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">when we have lingered</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">too long without light.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Yet how healing</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">the warmth of sky,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">the warmth of our flesh</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">when we yield up</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">our hibernating spirits</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">and awaken.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">We must never forget</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">that to be uncaring, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">unthinking</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">can leave wounds </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">all but impossible to heal.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">We must remember </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">what it feels like</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">when our bodies are joined,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">in brief moments</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">of completeness;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">echoing an eternal joining.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Love me as I love you,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">here standing</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">in the divinity of passion.</span></div></div><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y6knMRLEv38/Tfzc0AUrObI/AAAAAAAAADY/_ERfULy4BKQ/s1600/eros-pg-45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y6knMRLEv38/Tfzc0AUrObI/AAAAAAAAADY/_ERfULy4BKQ/s320/eros-pg-45.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Those are just a few of the poems and artistic vistas in the book. Creating this vision with Samarel was exciting and illuminating, and we hope that others will enjoy following the journey that we crafted. To a place, as I wrote above, where we can find heaven, in each other's arms.<br />
<br />
<em>Eros: The Divinity of Passion is available here:</em><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/eros---the-divinity-of-passion/15905495?productTrackingContext=search_results/search_shelf/center/1"><span style="color: yellow; font-size: large;">EROS: THE DIVINITY OF PASSION</span></a><br />
<br />
Visit Samarel's website <a href="http://www.samarelart.com/"><span style="color: yellow;">HERE</span></a><br />
Visit R. Paul's website <a href="http://www.rpaulsardanas.com/"><span style="color: yellow;">HERE</span></a>R. Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01630766946235458628noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038168578117860655.post-6694396010279772322011-05-21T20:30:00.000-07:002011-05-21T20:30:32.947-07:00Hope, Heart, and Crazy Wisdom: Good night, little brother<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">As I write, my youngest brother Alan is in the last days of his struggle against terminal cancer. Only 49, it is so strange to think that in a few days, give or take, he will be gone. For the last months of his life he has been in the care of my wonderful sister and her husband, for which I am grateful beyond words. The fact that he could come to the end of his life in a place that feels like home, is a gift that simply can't be measured.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">We had a wild life growing up, my family. For a while in the 1960's it had the feel of American middle class life (belied a bit by the intense group of intellectual eccentrics we were developing into). But we had a small but nice house we lived in nestled in an old farm town in Massachusetts, and I remember those days mostly with happiness. We always had cats, and I remember a cold March day in the late sixties, when Alan, just a little boy, appeared one morning and said he had found mice in his bed, and not sure of what to do, he had put them out on the porch. What we actually discovered on the porch was a litter of kittens -- our one cat (at the time) had disdained the nice nest we had made for her when the time came to give birth, and had her kittens in Alan's bed. They were all fine (and some led long and memorable lives). And Alan had his start as a lifelong lover of cats.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mfQH9HXee-k/TdhxToeCF2I/AAAAAAAAACw/OdoY3xppHhs/s1600/Alan+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" j8="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mfQH9HXee-k/TdhxToeCF2I/AAAAAAAAACw/OdoY3xppHhs/s320/Alan+1.jpg" width="244" /></a></div><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3;">Ten years later, our lives had radically changed. For reasons complex to me even now, we lost our grip on middle class life, and ended up what today would be called homeless (though that word, to my knowledge, hadn't been coined yet in the '70's). We lived in temporary apartments and in tents in the woods, traveling up and down the East Coast, and finally to California. A strange life to say the least, and one that shaped all of us in different ways. Here is Alan from that time, with another beloved cat, the Gray Shred, a sweet -- if somewhat demented -- kitty we had taken in as a stray with a permanently broken paw...and who had a special bond with Alan.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MucqdgbHug8/TdhyMeKahWI/AAAAAAAAAC0/-M3vmuGblTg/s1600/Alan+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" j8="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MucqdgbHug8/TdhyMeKahWI/AAAAAAAAAC0/-M3vmuGblTg/s320/Alan+2.jpg" width="315" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: white;">Below is the whole family (excepting my oldest brother, who had moved on to seek his own fortune by this time) as we were in that time in the late 70's. What a motley crew! Mum is gone now as well, having also succumbed to cancer, but we were an eclectic bunch in those days--I was writing (bad) novels already, and Alan's lifelong interest in the sciences had taken firm root.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nVoP0tYGdIY/TdhzWOpg3tI/AAAAAAAAAC4/cV4Shlmq_2U/s1600/Family+Photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="282" j8="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nVoP0tYGdIY/TdhzWOpg3tI/AAAAAAAAAC4/cV4Shlmq_2U/s320/Family+Photo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span style="color: white;">As adults, we had our times of connection and disconnection with each other, and Alan became a brillant if reclusive figure, going into teaching, becoming a notable pool shark, and developing a strong philosophy of non-materialism (something we share).</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: white;">After a long period in which we fell out of touch, Alan and I had a time of very lively re-connection, which I treasured then, and even more so now. We exchanged long letters and phone calls, and I felt so much delight to learn about his views and passions, many of which we had in common. Here are some of Alan's thoughts from those letters, first on non-materialism:</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">You may not be aware, but your cutting down your possessions, and then your whole living-in-the-woods minimalistic adventure, those things influenced me a youth. So some of our overlap in approach to living is not coincidence. But clearly my path towards enlightenment has been far more than a few childhood memories, but I thought you'd like to see that you played a small part. I do hope I can get my act together for a visit eventually.</span></em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: white;">On his life as a teacher:</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><span style="color: black;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">I love the idea that we can look at one another and truly absorb what we are seeing, in a stepladder fashion of learning. I don’t see a lot of growth in most people, and the stagnation scares me. The more commercial and material we become, the more of that I see. But my anarchism still believes that the people are slowly awakening. It helps to teach as I do, where all my students are 18 or 19 (all freshman classes), even one young 17 yr old Taiwanese dude! They are a spoiled generation; the generation of kids getting trophies just for participating! But their minds are open, and I believe in youth's ability to recreate the world’s structure.</span></em> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: white;">On our love of books:</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><span style="color: black;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">Books are so powerful. I still believe that the need for keeping a book, like on a shelf in a room in the house, is overcome by the power of the simple mental and emotional residue of having read the book, which is not truly liberated without removing the actual book. So I read and discard the material book, but it will always be alive in my mind. And you actually create NEW books, which makes the whole process even more beautiful.</span></em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: white;">On love (which I of course rhapsodized on as transformative and transcendent):</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><span style="color: black;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">Your comments on love made me a little sad for myself (but happy for you!). I have not found love yet, in the way the rest of the family has. I think I have been dealing with my autism, and that has held me back. I am unsure where I will end up on that front, but am still hopeful. I still think I have a lot to offer!</span></em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: white;">In reading his thoughts now, I'm sad too, at the thought that his life and dreams are cut short. But I told him that I loved him, and that I was glad we grew up to be friends. How I'll miss you, little brother...your abstract intellectualisms that made my head swim (though happily), balanced by your laugh and slacker-dude alternate persona. I'll miss the chance to see your many dreams come true. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: white;">Here is the last paragraph of the last letter he wrote to me:</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><span style="color: black;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">Uh oh, I feel myself running out of steam, and still have "miles to go before I sleep", haha. I will get to work (on my studies of quasi-injective modules, which I believe may also hold a key to understanding consciousness). Later dude.</span></em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: white;">Later, dude. May you have peace, and I'll dream sometimes of the two of us as old men, laughing about it all. Good night, little brother.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CK-Iq4s2B34/TdiBAsljNXI/AAAAAAAAAC8/6kQhs6dU4Rs/s1600/Alan+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" j8="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CK-Iq4s2B34/TdiBAsljNXI/AAAAAAAAAC8/6kQhs6dU4Rs/s1600/Alan+3.JPG" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div></span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div></span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div>R. Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01630766946235458628noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038168578117860655.post-64928382901492543842011-04-09T08:54:00.000-07:002011-04-09T10:03:16.865-07:00Two Suns in the Sky: "Torera" and the wonder of collaboration<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-egX6KuwfsFw/TaB06b7ZlkI/AAAAAAAAACQ/4IST95-zbF8/s1600/Torera+Cover+with+text.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-egX6KuwfsFw/TaB06b7ZlkI/AAAAAAAAACQ/4IST95-zbF8/s320/Torera+Cover+with+text.jpg" width="199" /></a></div><br />
Today "Torera", the epic novel exploring thirty years in the life of lady matador Lucretia Maria Calderon, goes on sale from Passion in Print Press. Any day a book makes it out of the mind of its creators and into the world is an exciting day, and I am particularly proud of this book, which is the product of two people finding a shared voice, one of the most satisfying experiences I believe a writer can have.<br />
<br />
I've been incredibly gifted with the collaborators I've joined with over the years. Artist David Cuccia (whose stunning portrait of Lucretia is at the end of this blog...many thanks, David!), Erotic Artist Samarel, painter Bedazzled, artist and poet Marge Simon to name a few, as well as poetic works created together with talents like Tess MacKall, Willow, Kristaline, Kate Barker, Saroya and many more. Each time, I am amazed at the depth of these artists and writers, who take me outside of my own mind with fresh and inspiring visions. <br />
<br />
In the writing of "Torera", I had the honor of coming to know Tisha Garcia, who before arriving in the world of novels has written remarkable, cutting-edge screenplays with her writing partner David Strickler. Ideas flew fast and thick when Tisha and I began to brainstorm this book, and it grew and grew through that interaction, becoming a story of intense depth and history. My original concept for the book (as I am a devoted animal-lover, and wondered how I would respond emotionally to a story about the world of bullfighting) was to set it in the modern arena of "bloodless" bullfighting, where supposedly no one gets hurt as all go through the motions of the classical bullfight -- but that story, though it would have been interesting, lacked the fire of deep emotion. Tisha felt that we could bring the story to a more powerful environment by going to the literary place that Hemingway went in his book "Death in the Afternoon"...looking with a novelist's eye at the wildly obsessive and driven figures of the 20th century Spanish corrida. <br />
<br />
To that end we both read Hemingway, and researched the matadors of Spain, including Belmonte, Joselito, and many others -- but as our matador was to be a woman, we also studied the lives of Conchita Cintron, Patricia McCormick, and other Lady Matadors. Truly fascinating. And I came to think that like pacifists who write the most insightful books about war, perhaps Tisha and I truly could write not only of the violence and blood of the bullring, but the honor, courage, and almost mystical connection to life and death that these men and women embodied and experienced.<br />
<br />
And so instead of one sun shining down on an idea as there is in the writing of a solo novel, there were two. Time and again I would be touched, astonished, moved and excited by the subtleties and strengths Tisha brought to the story. Our writing became a very organic thing, with each of us selecting a period in Lucretia's life that interested us particularly, and writing chapters along a time line in that manner, each of us sharing our thoughts and adapting as we went along. We took on subjects like fighting the disempowerment of women; the emotional and sexual obsessions of people who make the choice of a career that could kill them on any given day; and we didn't shy away from the violent world of the corrida, while at the same time exploring the humanity of those who live it. We found humor and tragedy, love and life.<br />
<br />
The end result? Only the readers can tell us, but reading the finished novel, there is a seamless feel that I think most collaborators dream of. Our vision for the characters, the story, became one voice...bringing life to scenes that neither of us could have achieved alone. <br />
<br />
Tisha, thank you for the gift of your wild intelligence, your insight, and your gift with words. "Torera" is alive with all of those things. I hope that the readers who read about the lives of Lucretia, Diego, Christian and all the others we illuminated in our thirty-year narrative, will feel the same exhilaration in reading as I felt in writing this book with you.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QQ3AxEItFlI/TaB-btOeVhI/AAAAAAAAACU/gTyA5iuM3Lg/s1600/lucretia+color.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QQ3AxEItFlI/TaB-btOeVhI/AAAAAAAAACU/gTyA5iuM3Lg/s320/lucretia+color.jpg" width="285" /></a></div><br />
Torera available through Passion in Print Press <a href="http://passioninprint.com/ShowBook.php?CR=PS_TG_TORERA"><span style="color: yellow;">HERE</span></a><br />
Visit the website of Lucy V. Pelt alias Tisha Garcia <a href="http://onedirtyword.weebly.com/"><span style="color: yellow;">HERE</span></a><br />
Visit the artistic world of David Cuccia <a href="http://cucciacreative.com/index.php"><span style="color: yellow;">HERE</span></a><br />
Cover art for "Torera" by Deana C. JamrozR. Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01630766946235458628noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038168578117860655.post-68910932380693081362011-03-20T09:25:00.000-07:002011-03-20T09:33:55.608-07:00The Peach Orchard<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: white;">As spring arrives here in Florida and the days begin to be hot, here's an old favorite -- a sweet, sensual interlude from my poetry collection "Touch in the Bed of Light".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: yellow;">The Peach Orchard</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">I bite the flesh of a peach,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">with the air around me so thick with humidity</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">that sweat has become a liquid skin,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">stinging on tiny cuts on my palms, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">From where I have bent down the branch</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">to steal its fruit.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">I will bring its flavor to you, on my tongue.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">I see your face,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">framed in the shadow of that same night,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">my lips subtly swollen</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">where you have taken them in your teeth.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">I feel the arch of your foot, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">as you curl your legs upward.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">The same rough palm of my hand</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">takes your ankle, and you are open to me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">There is a growl in your throat,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">the coiled muscles of the night</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">finding voice in you.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">Outside our window, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">the peach orchard stirs</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">in a breeze that heralds rain.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">Its scent of ripened life surrounds us, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">and you moan, tasting the approaching moment.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">When the rain comes, it will wash the heat</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">from every laden branch.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-3NIA7ZTsywM/TYYsD5oHRdI/AAAAAAAAACE/112i5zqD_eY/s1600/imagesCAYZEKH3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" r6="true" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-3NIA7ZTsywM/TYYsD5oHRdI/AAAAAAAAACE/112i5zqD_eY/s1600/imagesCAYZEKH3.jpg" /></a></div></div>R. Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01630766946235458628noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038168578117860655.post-23699079552037044972011-02-11T19:00:00.000-08:002011-02-12T09:31:00.642-08:00Kama Sutra - Husband and WifeWith Valentine's Day this Monday, here is the fourth of the Kama Sutra poems from my collection "Touch in the Bed of Light". It's dedicated to every man who has found his soul's wife, and every woman who truly knows her soul's husband.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;"><place w:st="on">Kama</place> Sutra – Husband and Wife</span></span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">I lift her into my arms, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">feeling the pleasure that comes in strength</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">to cradle her body in my grasp.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">She winds her hands behind my neck,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">and whispers in my ear.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">We smile together, and I set her down</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">to rest on the bed,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">the illumination of happiness and want</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">in her face.</span><br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: yellow;">He is so strong, it always excites me.</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">What could be more alluring,</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">than powerful hands that have mastered </span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">gentleness; than a husband who longs</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">to see me in pleasure.</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">The smile bursts from me,</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">a sunrise breaking from clouds.</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">When he lays me down, I gasp</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">with impatience, </span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;"><em>because I want him beside me.</em><br />
<br />
I lift her feet until she is framed</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">by her graceful legs on either side;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">then let them come across my back,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">as I bend to kiss her neck.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">The pulse of life there is a voice</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">of its own; life and warmth </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">are in its beat. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">I cup her breasts, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">and we are in Uthkanta, throat-high.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
<em><span style="color: yellow;">His lips on my throat </span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">make all the pain in my body melt away.</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">Currents flow through my limbs,</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">and I know what it is to be water,</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">moving through a weary land </span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;"><em>and awakening it to life.</em></span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;"><br />
The strength in her legs gives way,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">but as they slide away from my back</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">even that movement seems like grace</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">to me; and yet she cries out softly </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">as if from loss, and so I catch her feet;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">draw them up until they reach her hair.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">So we have Vyomapada, sky-foot.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">I take her arching foot to my lips.</span><br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">Oh god, do not ever let us be parted.</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">When I sleep, I dream of seeing him </span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">next to me in the morning light,</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">and when I wake, the reality of it</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">is almost to much joy to bear. </span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">Come inside me, my love, my heart,</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;"><em>my soul.</em> <br />
<br />
The warmth of the night is ours to share.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">When we have breathed our pleasure </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">to one another, I lay my head on her breast,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">and she strokes my hair </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">until I begin to drift </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">into the purest peace; into the shared heart</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">of our embrace.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">I kiss her, and sigh out a good night,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">but her hand is already still, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">her breathing deep and even.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">We lie together on the edge of dream,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">the beat of her heart my lullaby.</span></div>R. Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01630766946235458628noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038168578117860655.post-58009426116536880412011-01-28T17:09:00.000-08:002011-01-28T17:09:29.053-08:00Lilith is Alive and Well - Samantha Birch and "Beat"<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I have a very special guest on "The Passionate Mind" tonight. In June of last year, I had the privilege to write the introduction to a book of poetry by Samantha Birch, called "Beat". Without further preamble, here's what I had to say:</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic";">Do not stick your head out of the window of a moving car.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic";">That admonition, from Samantha Birch’s poem <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">87</i>, could easily be applied to the poem itself. Climbing into the passenger seat of her mind as she takes language and wrenches it into forms that are vital, harrowing, inspirational and terrifying, can make you feel as if your head’s going to be sheared off at any moment and left tumbling along the highway as she speeds on. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic";">But it’s too late for warnings. When you read her work, there is no stopping. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Century Gothic"; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">It feels like an old house</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Century Gothic"; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">It is home to me</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Century Gothic"; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">The broken motorbike</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Century Gothic"; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">leans against the shed</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Century Gothic"; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Telling me I belong here,</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Century Gothic"; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">I am loved</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Century Gothic"; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">The above lines from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Custard Creams and Midget Gems</i> echo with the happiness and ache of something as simple, as precious, as coming home. But the world is not a place where we can retreat into the warmth of home forever. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic";">Rid the deranged of bizarre spirits<br />
in hypocritical excess of black bile and shame<br />
It <b>sticks</b> and <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">swirls</span>; There are no winners here</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic";">As in those lines from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Folly</i>, the great monsters of our time—things like hypocrisy, cruelty, ignorance and pain also take unforgettable shape in her writing. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic";">To characterize Birch’s voice in the words of an introduction is not possible. The poems themselves will speak to that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They offer an indelible journey into the thoughts of a woman who is a visionary, a fierce lover, a caring friend, a warrior, a mother, a daughter, and who at times wields her gift with words very much like a scythe, cutting away anything that is false, exposing necrosis in the body of our society; looking hard at things that make us flinch, challenging us not to turn away.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic";">A wild wind is calling to me beyond the closed window of a moving car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I should stay in my seat, safe within walls of glass and metal. But no, that sense of safety is illusion. And there are words in the voice of that wind that I am desperate to hear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">And here is a sampling of two of the amazing poems from the collection. Sammie, I hope you'll give us some insight into the visions these two works present!</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;"><b><u><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Thoughts On Losing Lilith</span></u></b><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">On first wake with beast, quietly tethered</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">A beauty appeared; born of filth and sediment</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">groomed from my own creation </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">Impure dust forged clean</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">Coccyx stump hacked and weeping</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">Burned and bound </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">As weakness flows into rivers of primary blood.</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">Surely not the same earth and clay</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">From which my own perfect ego birthed.</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">Thoughts of capture re-emerge</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">As the beasts distaste struggles </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">against a futile coupling.</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">Turning to face my glorious gift</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">I feel hope, with a prayer</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">That the tide would turn</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">To my favour...</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">"Will you match me in strength and faith?</span></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">and not ask that I lie beneath you</span></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">still and tolerating as the beast you tamed and refused?"</span></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">She bears Sin, the first</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">Of independence and strange notion</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">The blood of a hardened mind shows</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">Within universal eyes</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">Weakness desert me!</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">I cannot contain us</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">The burden is hers</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">To re-live...</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">To hold...</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">Forever more.</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">"Those who know Love as the sacred word</span></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">and who use it justly,</span></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">must be strong enough to hold on for the ride"</span></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">She speaks of the light within</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">And travelling poisonous tides</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">Soaking in corrupted rains lest myself be lost</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">We were one, her front to back</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">Yet now she seeks to utter a name</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">In rising above, she takes the blame.</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">She... demon queen; in separate form, </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">I see my need abandoned; a limb</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">A shadows departure through the boundaries</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">A flickered glimpse through gates of destruction</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">and catastrophic shores of abandoned oceans</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">Shame, my love, shame; show remorse</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">For lives of whispered children lost in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"defyant"</i> battles</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">Slumbered seduction bears the spawn of life's ruin</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">Punished and banished in free-will's cage.</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">With ego dimmed I ask for more</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">My falsified rib is ripped and torn</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">Re-emerging as succulent fruit</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">To tempt and strip bare the truth</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">I am no longer protected</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">I see the purity that once was</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">And I turn to regard the amputated part</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">With contempt and anger</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">My own proclivity mirrored</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">once more, in beauty's face</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: yellow;">Her Sin is the second...</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="color: yellow;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"></span><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">She has unveiled my failure as a man</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri;">____________________________________________________________________</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><span style="color: yellow;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: yellow;">87</span></span></u></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: yellow;">Prophet!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(or<i> Profit?</i>)<br />
Your reflective surfaces show sickness<br />
in magnified proportions<br />
<br />
Look... <b><i>LOOK</i></b><br />
Your attention please!<br />
<br />
An inspection of the air<br />
reveals sullied skins; grime<br />
boiling in iatrogenic conditions<br />
with superbug resistance<br />
</span><span style="color: yellow;"><b>See what you have done<br />
See what you have become</b><br />
<br />
Selfish concentric, ever <i>INC</i>reasing circles<br />
play and ripple in pools of cynicism<br />
and forgotten peace<br />
<br />
So-called civilised playgrounds appear<br />
Organic, at first, rollin' with the trees<br />
To be heavily replaced <br />
with perfect, concrete slabs <br />
In cracked and open doorways<br />
and solar-mirrored walls; cue sunglasses<br />
<br />
Human nature is corrupt <br />
(<i>no-brainer</i>)<br />
The destroyer of all things<br />
That means <b>you</b><br />
So keep your fingers to yourself<br />
Steal nothing, protect EVERYthing<br />
Play dead<br />
<br />
Do not stick your head out<br />
of the window in a moving car<br />
You'll barely breathe for long<br />
before it's swiped off at the neck<br />
and smashed up like coffee beans<br />
for a motorway brew on double yellows<br />
<br />
So much to lie about, so little time<br />
but you'll only have survived the ride<br />
if you're mad... <br />
<br />
or <i>eighty-seven</i></span></span></div><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><em><span style="color: white;">________________________________________________________________________</span></em></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: yellow;"> </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_87Cmonj3lLo/TUNm77ZRAUI/AAAAAAAAAB8/EqT2JLgtD1s/s1600/idea3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" s5="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_87Cmonj3lLo/TUNm77ZRAUI/AAAAAAAAAB8/EqT2JLgtD1s/s320/idea3.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Sammie's book is available in hardcover and as an electronic download here:</span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.lulu.com/product/hardcover/beat/12200958?productTrackingContext=search_results/search_shelf/center/1"><span style="color: yellow; font-size: large;">BEAT by Samantha Birch</span></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /></div></span></span></span>R. Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01630766946235458628noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038168578117860655.post-21875925226133538752011-01-22T22:06:00.000-08:002011-01-22T22:13:09.211-08:00Ancient Reflections of the Sacred FeminineThose of you who have followed the first two novels in the Siobhan Bishop series know that despite being filled with eroticism, the stories are also filled with spirituality, which manifests through the main character, Siobhan, exploring passionate but also enlightening writings from the deep past. <br />
<br />
In the third novel, <em>The Unbound Goddess</em> (which I am writing now) the story circles around the concept of the Sacred Feminine, as embodied by Lilith. Though religious scholars differ greatly about how divinity differs between men and women, still I was fascinated to read this passage from the Kabbalah (which is my primary source for understanding the mysteries explored in the novel):<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: yellow;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">There are two aspects to the female of Z'er Anpin, one when she is contained initially in the male, and the second when she is separated from him and he gives her the crown of strength... When she separates from him and becomes an autonomous aspect, then the two of them are in the secret of a husband and his wife, the male alone and the female alone."</span></i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode"; mso-ansi-language: EN;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><br />
Remember that the story of Lilith has her wanting to share passion equally with her husband, which doesn't sit well with (the to my mind, pig-headed) Adam, who rejects her. She then "speaks the secret name of God and flies from Eden on her own."<br />
<br />
In the italicized passage above, which is not talking specifically about Adam and Lilith, the man is described as "giving her the crown of strength", each becoming separate and strong, and then becoming a true husband and wife as a male alone and a female alone. In other words, both actualized as individuals before truly bonding.<br />
<br />
I'd say Lilith had it right from the start.<br />
<br />
Fascinating indeed, to find in a text from the 14th century. <br />
<br />
These are the kind of wonders that come like treasure to a writer, finding a home in something as commercial as a novel in the Siobhan Bishop Erotic Underworld series. Is it any wonder that I love to write?R. Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01630766946235458628noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038168578117860655.post-84243317981209857642011-01-14T19:23:00.000-08:002011-01-14T19:23:07.148-08:00Kama Sutra: PillarsOver on my Goodreads page, where I began the "Passionate Mind" blog, I had explored two subtle phases of the Kama Sutra that also found expression in my poetry. In the first, the concept of all of us possessing "seven senses", and in the second, the beauty of joining our oneness to nature with our sensuality. In this third poem, the Kama Sutra once again goes beyond (or rather, enhances and deepens) the physical, in the way that we can become whole when joined. <br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;"><place w:st="on">Kama</place> Sutra: Pillars</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">There are moments of love </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">that are crafted to be living echoes</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">of temples raised to the sky;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">towers that call down the hungry moon.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">We stand, and together </span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">our pleasure joins heaven and earth.</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">Sthita is the first step, </span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">with a wall to aid us.</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">Her hands rest flat</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">on the plastered surface,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">which still holds the heat of the day;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">her palms burn with it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">She looks over her shoulder, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">seeking the eyes of one who will rival</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">that sun's heat, and fill her with it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">Turn then, </span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">and give your back to the wall, </span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">let your feet spread, wider and wider, </span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">until you sink down onto me, </span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">so that I am the pillar</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">suspending you. </span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">Face to face, Sammukha.</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">Whisper to me what you would like</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">to feel within you.</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">She says, "I wish most of all </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">for separateness to leave us,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">for me to see into you,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">as you enter me."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">Then twine your thighs around mine, </span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">lock your feet to my knees, </span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">clasp my neck,</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">and I will lift you into the swing, </span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">which is Dola.</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">Catch me in the cage of your arms</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">and crush me,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">force my knees apart,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">and sink slowly into me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">Dadhyayataka, the churn.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">So we will blend</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">into perfect fiery harmony.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">I want you to draw up one leg, </span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">nestle it here, behind my knee.</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">Let us move </span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">in a single stride, Traivikrama.</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">One step, just one step,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">purely joined.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">I do not remember</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">what it was to be alone.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">We have banished the horizon;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">sky and earth are joined.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">Tears are in my eyes,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">a moaning rises from my center.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">I did not know</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">that my body could stand so,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">burning into you, consumed</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">and consuming.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: yellow;">I love you.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style="color: yellow;">And I love you</span>.</em></div>R. Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01630766946235458628noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038168578117860655.post-56187203989417406182010-12-11T11:23:00.000-08:002010-12-11T21:31:13.699-08:00Life Blood - using eroticism to redefine the vampire mystique<em>"Advance, and never halt, for advancing is perfection. Advance and do not fear the thorns in the path, for they draw only corrupt blood" - Kahlil Gibran</em><br />
<br />
<em>"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." -Plato</em><br />
<br />
<em>"It's not too much to hope for things to feel all right. Nursing a drink till I get sleepy and go to bed and dream about sex and heaven, that's not empty shit."</em> <em>-Jonquil Florio</em><br />
<br />
The above are not exactly the kind of musings one might expect in an erotic vampire novel. But each one appears in my new novel "<a href="http://passioninprint.com/ShowBook.php?CR=RSBLJAGUAR"><span style="color: yellow;">The Blood Jaguar</span></a>", released today from <a href="http://passioninprint.com/ShowBook.php?CR=RSBLJAGUAR"><span style="color: yellow;">Passion in Print Press</span></a>. In the book, I steer the Siobhan Bishop Erotic Underworld series into territory both new and very, very old. Vampires are the stuff of frenzy in creative media of all kinds these days; seems like everywhere you look on television, movies, books, someone is smiling back at you with bared fangs. A lot of those works repeat or revise themes popularized by Bram Stoker's classic "Dracula", or Anne Rice's wildly popular modern spin on the subject. But the human fascination with blood and sex (the essential elements in the tales of Stoker and Rice) goes back as far as human history, and has taken shapes from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other -- from fear to desire, from dark passion to bright exaltation. <br />
<br />
For my own own exploration of the fierce sexual phenomenon of the vampire, I wanted to take things to a new and different place. So I rooted the story in a culture steeped in things that are quite the opposite of the dark and unholy night creatures of modern entertainment. Life, reverence for the faith and power in sacred things, love of the sun and delight in the day, along with intense eroticism, were the elements I wanted to weave into the vampire mystique. Not much like Dracula, I'm afraid.<br />
<br />
I also wanted to bring things down to earth a bit. Most vampire tales are filled with fantastic elements like becoming "undead", having a strange form of immortality, possessing a form of sexual hypnotism to lure victims...right on down to sleeping in coffins or turning into night mist. Fun as all that is, I wanted to write about things on a level a little closer to our own. The fact is, there are real people who adopt a "vampire" identity as part of a lifestyle choice. In my current hometown of St. Petersburg, Florida, one need only go down to the city park in the center of town to see young men and women who call themselves vampires, and they have little use for stereotypes, embracing an alternative lifestyle in which they mix blood ritual with their sex lives. <br />
<br />
So I took those two basic approaches -- the "vampire mystique" as a source of life, energy, sex and health, and a subculture of realistic young people looking for an alternative way to have passion in their lives -- and wove "The Blood Jaguar". Among its characters, along with the regular protagonist occult book expert Siobhan Bishop and her lover Professor Richard Blake, are a young intellectual nihilistic woman working in the Central Florida sex trade; a highly successful Mexican couple of Aztec descent who run a high-end resort that offers the raptures of sexual enlightenment through "vampire" techniques; a devout Baptist pimp who is a sucker for hearts and flowers love; an equally devout Catholic woman who wears a silver cross given to her with affection by her vampire lover...let's face it, we're not in Transylvania anymore.<br />
<br />
The eroticism of the story is intense, but under it is a theme I always strive to bring to works that explore sexuality: how does passion excite the soul along with the body? Without one the other can only be shallow and empty. Can the soul be excited by a wild closeness to our life-blood, and sex that is both savage and sophisticated? Ask the <em>sangre angeles</em>, the "blood angels" of "The Blood Jaguar", along with their kiss that changes both body and soul.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_87Cmonj3lLo/TQPPGfjdHQI/AAAAAAAAABw/LXFvYj3F86o/s1600/The_Blood_Jaguar_Final_Front_Cover_11_19_2010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_87Cmonj3lLo/TQPPGfjdHQI/AAAAAAAAABw/LXFvYj3F86o/s320/The_Blood_Jaguar_Final_Front_Cover_11_19_2010.jpg" width="203" /></a></div>R. Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01630766946235458628noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038168578117860655.post-14627368241636734322010-12-04T08:06:00.000-08:002010-12-04T08:06:14.098-08:00To Be NakedAs a writer of erotic fiction and sensual poetry, the act of becoming naked is certainly one that I depict over and over again. But in every one of those scenes, whether it be an interlude in a novel or a stanza in a poem, I remind myself that the exposure of the body is basically empty without an opening of the soul to accompany it. And yet, how often during physical intimacy does this really happen? In my poetry collection, "Touch in the Bed of Light", I try to explore this in many ways. From couples who close themselves off to one another intentionally -- because of lack of fundamental trust, or fear, or the presence of cruelty in the relationship -- to those who have achieved the kind of love where the soul does indeed become naked. For men in particular, this seems to be something at times almost inconceivable. Why? One poem in the book takes the concept and looks at it head-on, and raises a question that perhaps we all should ask: have we ever, truly, shown ourselves to the one we offer our body to in the sharing of passion?<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">Naked </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">He wonders</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">how many grasping, clutching, hungry bodies, seeking solace,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">seeking connection to life in the immensity of the warm night</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">have ever truly been together naked.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">How many have spoken these words, which she says now to him?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em>More than just a fuck tonight, sweet love.</em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em>Open yourself, and I will lie open for you.</em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">How easy it would be </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">to send the most vulnerable part of his soul,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">that which feels the most,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">into hiding; to send out his avatar,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">well trained by him in the motions of tenderness and passion,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">but with the core of aching light held back.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Men do it all the time.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">He supposes that many women</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">believe that core does not even exist in men.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Her fingers deftly undo buttons, and her mouth opens,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">gesture of anticipation,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">tongue appearing for the briefest moment between her lips.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">How many men have spoken these words, as he speaks them now?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em>When I touch you tonight,</em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em>that touch will be everything that I am.</em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">The motions of pleasure, crafted by men and women</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">since water first sought the earth,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">change only a little; </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">he wonders how often they become a pantomime,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">feasting, without fullness achieved?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">His tongue will enter her sex, soft circles inscribed</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">upon a flower seeking to unfold at the touch of true light offered.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">He will harden it to let its tip pass into her, and he will listen</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">for her small cries that speak of an equal door</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">cracking open in her soul.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">In the moment when she looks into his eyes</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">a tremor of fear appears within him, and passes.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">He does not wonder any more</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">what it is like to stand in a sacred place.</div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">He is naked.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"> </span><br />
<br />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />R. Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01630766946235458628noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7038168578117860655.post-21191904892017062542010-11-27T13:12:00.000-08:002010-11-28T17:25:03.620-08:00"History's Greatest Love Story" and the demonizing of the sexual womanWhen the concept of history's greatest love story is bandied about, there are certainly many that leap to mind. Arthur and Guinevere perhaps (though their claim to being historical rather than fictional is dubious)...Henry the VIII and Anne Boleyn (for which a whole system of belief and politics was uprooted and re-shaped, in the English Reformation)...but in my mind, the love story of the Roman poet Catullus and the noblewoman Clodia tops them all. Catullus wrote stunningly intense and immediate poetry about their love affair, made even more poignant because he wrote equally agonized poems about its collapse. Catullus died young, and there was no happily ever after for them. There is debate even as to whether the "Lesbia" (as Catullus calls his beloved in the poems) is Clodia at all. But having studied that debate myself, I believe she was. And that leads to the second part of this blog's title, the demonizing of the sexual woman. Clodia was considered notorious,and has often been portrayed in literature as downright villainous. A state which both Guinevere and Anne Boleyn have endured as well, when you give it some thought. And why? By and large, despite being part of love stories that have inspired lovers for centuries, because of their powerful sexuality. It's a double standard that has always troubled me, and one that I believe is alive and well today. The stereotype of the "evil temptress", the "fallen woman", as well as invectives far more crude. <br />
<br />
I love to write about love, and about the sensuality of the body, mind and soul that accompany it. But the concept that sexual power equates automatically to a fallen women is a stereotype I can never embrace. Rather, sensuality, when embraced by a secure and unthreatened partner, elevates both lovers. <br />
<br />
In my novel about Clodia and Catullus, "The Festival of Seven Nights' Passion", I take the demonizing of Clodia apart, placing it instead in the context of a time in history when women, even aristrocrats, were considered little more than possessions...where romantic dalliances by men were considered a sign of virility, and by women, a sign of wild immorality. Sound familiar? Some things haven't changed much since the First Century BC. <br />
<br />
Here's a brief excerpt from the book, in which Clodia looks back in her mind at the men she has known:<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in auto; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="color: #ffe599; font-size: large;">Possessed. The men who had possessed her in one way or another, had laid claim to her body and all of its shocks, pains and pleasures...possession had looked different for each. </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in auto; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="color: #ffe599;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I can’t hear the tone of Sulla’s voice any more. For a long time when I had nightmares, his voice would seem as real and present as if he stood right beside me, or held me next to him. “Claudians. Why is it that Claudians are always such beautiful things? Come here little Claudia, take it in your hand. You have perfect hands, my child. I’ve never been touched by anything half so soft.”</i></span></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in auto; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="color: #ffe599;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then later, crying at all the wrong times, embarrassing father at the dinner table when I tried to put food in my mouth, or to cease playing out in the garden and suddenly kneel in the dirt and wail. Father would cuff me with his palm and send me to my room. You came then, Publius, sneaking in to see me when the house was asleep. Always with the same promises, to get revenge on all the old men, the bastards, to let me watch while you tortured and ruined them. Holding me, rocking me, kissing me. When you held me in your arms it was like being cradled, even though I’m the older; or caressed and loved by my own mirror image, my own soul given the shape of a man, who could do things, change things. “I won’t let any of them have you, Claudia. Not ever again.”</span></span></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in auto; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="color: #ffe599;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then Metellus, and that was the final end of such illusions. He was rough with the Knot of Hercules on my wedding dress. He pulled off my red veil and dropped it on the floor. He didn’t bother with kissing me. Pluto stealing Prosperpine, taking her to the Underworld on his black horse with red eyes, whose hooves could cleave rock.</span></span></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in auto; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="color: #ffe599;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally, Catullus, there was you.</span></span></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in auto; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="color: #ffe599;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You have no meter, Clodia.”</span></span></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in auto; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="color: #ffe599;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meter’s not important. It shouldn’t be about meter. There are other ways find mastery of the secret language, the one that enables souls to look into one another as one would look at the sun, and without being blinded. </span></span></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in auto; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="color: #ffe599;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Clodia let her hands stray to the curves of her body, still beautiful, still desired, even after all the ravaging forces. </span></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in auto; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="color: #ffe599;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">But now I belong only to myself. Perhaps that was always true, and it has just taken the longest time for me to realize it. </i></span></span></span></span></div><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Garamond; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in auto; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: white;">.....</span></span></span><br />
<a href="http://www.lulu.com/product/hardcover/the-festival-of-seven-nights-passion/13842027?productTrackingContext=search_results/search_shelf/center/2">The Festival of Seven Nights' Passion by R. Paul Sardanas</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_87Cmonj3lLo/TPGl7WjjKeI/AAAAAAAAABk/v9p3WQB2lno/s1600/Festival+Front+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_87Cmonj3lLo/TPGl7WjjKeI/AAAAAAAAABk/v9p3WQB2lno/s1600/Festival+Front+Cover.jpg" /></a></div>R. Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01630766946235458628noreply@blogger.com12