What is it about that kind of love? 2008

What is it about that kind of love?


What is it about the kind of love
that is vitalizing not vampiring
where lovers are nourished but no one is consumed
both are fed, feasted even
and neither has the childish hollow leg
or gaping black-holeness of never enough
so that a natural satiation happens
and when that feeling comes
of I’ve had enough of you for now
it’s mutual and if not-
its recognizable, savored, enjoyed
that there’s satisfaction in knowing
one has taken in all they need of you
and you have lavished
in their myriad of offerings of self
and if not completely over flowing
are not always seeing your own gold filled goblet
or chipped mug as half empty or worse
and regardless of the degree of satiation
when the time comes to back away
from the feasting and do the dishes of loving
and each of you puts away your own leftovers
and retreats to digest and absorb all that has just happened
there is- like in my grandmother’s time
perhaps a brief nap or a savory smoke
and then back to one’s work or activities
one’s own life – however merged or separate
where one both replenishes and exhausts
is diminished or pushed
to evolve, whether alone or in the world
and this is what we bring back to the banquet of love
The kind of love that gets filled during fasting
the kind of love that gets renewed, returned and revived
when the two are not always one
but are always two
and when together is secure enough
not to always have to be together
and when the two can be distinct enough
solid enough to not merge,
not disappear, not cease to be real.
Otherwise its a different kind of love
in which the other is always being
consumed, exhausted, spent
and eventually all that it holds up to you
is a mirror of yourself
and you find yourself longing to see them
trying to touch them
but its flat and unresponsive
that mirror is impenetrable
it waits for you to do all the talking
for you to act, you to chose, you to decide,
it waits for you – but it’s nothing.
there’s only an image of love.




What is it about the kind of love
that is patient and generous
capable and imaginative enough
to love someone while facing the emptiness
the vacancy of self – talking them
into collecting moss,
fixing the foundation and walls, waiting patiently
for them to figure out their own favorite colors
helping discover and replace the boundaries of self –
repairing all the broken fences and windows, busted in doors,
and revising the outer meeting places of the soul as well,
the porches, yards, garden gates,
street corners and cafe’s of the self –
and to co-create this with destiny
and make them not just useful
but beautiful and easy to love.
What is it about that kind of love?