there is a place,a sanctuary,somewhere inside,where I can restwithout clothes,without mascara,without painted lipssinging staccato songs,and waxed skin glowingin its unnatural perfection,where I am therefor my eyes only,without mindless wanderings,without seductive snares,without violating what I love most,without settling for anything lessthan who I am and want to be,where I can speak with my own voice,not waiting to be received or extolled,where I can stand in front of my heart's desireand not twitch a muscle or breath,where I can hold and burn in the fireof my own wildness and maverick selfunleashed without walls and checks,where I can claim my gifts, my humanness,and a lifetime of storieswaiting to be heard and releasedinto the orgasmic mysteryof all that is and isn't me,for my eyes only.come with me.......as I take you there....

between 
and around
what we want 
to be perfect,
and what we feel 
is imperfect,
is what is,
the fount of love
that gushes
and is lost,
in a sudden disappearance
into an underground stream.