I read this poem before, Paul, in your first book, An Assembly of Words, and it was one of my favourites - still is - and thank you for including a voiceover. (I really love listening to poems being read by their authors, and you made a fine job of it today)
As for the poem itself, I really like the idea of two lovers meeting and connecting and not thinking too much beyond that because there it something very holy about that type of union and being fully present for it.
Thank you for reading again and commenting, Martin. The poem was first posted on Substack almost two years ago. Today marks the end of my 3rd year of writing on Substack.
Thank you, Martin! It’s been a wonderful experience in writing and building an audience, and a real privilege to be able to publish on the same platform as so many talented writers do.
I totally agree with you about the Substack writers. Reading their works and getting to know them, has been a great privilege for me also. I hope the platform itself appreciates them also and the selfless way some of them have put that sense of a shared community before all else.
Hard to tell what the platform appreciates—probably writers who have large numbers of paying subscribers. There is a sense of community here, though, and I appreciate that for sure.
No map needed to follow the twists and turns of red arteries and blue rivers veins; the path to enlightenment is inscribed with just a finger flick that touches the heart.
This is sublime eroticism. And it speaks to what I've been newly writing, erotic reflections, essays, and a short story. The first lyrical one will be published under a pseudonym for the privacy of someone in it (hint: it's not me).
I like how desire here doesn’t erase loneliness, but tries to cross it. Two bodies remain two separate stories, yet for one night they become a bridge between what each carries inside. Perhaps that is what makes intimacy so human: it doesn’t necessarily promise to save us, but for a moment, it makes us feel less alone.
Yes, I think the speaker makes clear that they create a kind of shelter for each other that hints at longevity (“I have stayed the longest,” i.e., I keep returning) which suggest something more than just two ships passing in the night. Thank you, Antonio.
I read this poem before, Paul, in your first book, An Assembly of Words, and it was one of my favourites - still is - and thank you for including a voiceover. (I really love listening to poems being read by their authors, and you made a fine job of it today)
As for the poem itself, I really like the idea of two lovers meeting and connecting and not thinking too much beyond that because there it something very holy about that type of union and being fully present for it.
"and slowly we become bridges
across every river of loneliness,
connecting separate sorrows
in a union consecrated with sweat
and musk."
Well done, Paul.
Thank you for reading again and commenting, Martin. The poem was first posted on Substack almost two years ago. Today marks the end of my 3rd year of writing on Substack.
Congratulations, Paul, 3 years on Substack is a big achievement! May you continue to blossom in your own way as you go forward from here.
Thank you, Martin! It’s been a wonderful experience in writing and building an audience, and a real privilege to be able to publish on the same platform as so many talented writers do.
I totally agree with you about the Substack writers. Reading their works and getting to know them, has been a great privilege for me also. I hope the platform itself appreciates them also and the selfless way some of them have put that sense of a shared community before all else.
Hard to tell what the platform appreciates—probably writers who have large numbers of paying subscribers. There is a sense of community here, though, and I appreciate that for sure.
Thanks to @Teresa Gonzales for restacking this poem
Thanks to @Alison Redford for sharing this poem.
Thanks to @Rolando Andrade for this restack!
Thanks to @Geraldine A. V. Hughes, our very own Lady G for sharing this poem.
Thanks to Diane and @Blue Citizen 77 for restacking this!
Thanks to @mitch fir this restack! 🙏😊
Thank you for sharing this, @Connie J. Casella 🙏😊
No map needed to follow the twists and turns of red arteries and blue rivers veins; the path to enlightenment is inscribed with just a finger flick that touches the heart.
Good morning, Richbee. I think you’ve described the journey, how the way is not something seen, but something felt.
love’s most ancient light - stunning
Good Thursday, Shondra, and thank you for reading and commenting.
It’s always a pleasure to read your poetry, Paul
Thank you, Shondra!
Beautiful 💖
Good Thursday, Simone, and thank you!
Beautiful Paul. Lost (and found?) in the landscape of love.
Thank you, Ron—lost in each other, but found for the moment!
Shades of love
This is sublime eroticism. And it speaks to what I've been newly writing, erotic reflections, essays, and a short story. The first lyrical one will be published under a pseudonym for the privacy of someone in it (hint: it's not me).
Thank you, Lev. I appreciate your comment.
I like how desire here doesn’t erase loneliness, but tries to cross it. Two bodies remain two separate stories, yet for one night they become a bridge between what each carries inside. Perhaps that is what makes intimacy so human: it doesn’t necessarily promise to save us, but for a moment, it makes us feel less alone.
Yes, I think the speaker makes clear that they create a kind of shelter for each other that hints at longevity (“I have stayed the longest,” i.e., I keep returning) which suggest something more than just two ships passing in the night. Thank you, Antonio.
Breathtakingly beautiful 😍
Thank you for reading and commenting, Jamesina!