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Dangerous Compassions

floribunda

floribunda

Hello, how are you?  Do you remember when I was talking about the ecstatic poem I wrote that felt like a song?  I wrote it at our friends’ house near Eugene, when I was at a gorgeous bush of white roses, watching the pollinators.  I got into a different mentality.  It’s called Floribunda.  Well, I decided this recording is ok.

Here are the words, if you care to read them.

floribunda

bury me deep in
the womb of love
bee drunk
in the open flower
half asleep
nested soft petals
face pressed
against the pollen
the vine is right twining
the tendrils are
tenderly bright
i lived through
another night
i wake
i wake in the arms
of love again
breathing her name again
home in her home
ready for
everything we need
sunshine free
the delivery of light
i was always crazy
crazy is right
to react to
floribunda
too much life
at the beginning of summer
the roses made me
fragrant ridiculous
radiant like them
lunatic moon mystic
with what we’ve been given
floribunda
name our child
floribunda
if i die in the pleasure-pain
wave that i ride

favorite

I don’t usually write ecstatic poems.  My favorite part is “I lived through another night.” So often I have gone to sleep, afraid I wouldn’t wake up as a living person.  That joyous morning realization that I lived is amazing.  Ah, I get to do it all again.

My other favorite part is “I was always crazy–crazy is right.”  Yes, so true!  Lifelong crazy person here.  Flower freak, plant curious, phyto fanatical.  I feel it hard.

And then I like the very end too, which is about my mom birthing me.  She said the pain was waves of intensity.  I think a lot about her birthing me.  How often she told me the story, how it was the best day of her life.

I’m never going to have my own child, but I was birthed, and that’s real.  It’s powerful to imagine, and so powerful to remember my mom remembering.  Birth is one of the most intense experiences many people go through.  Birth mythology is amazing.

Death and pleasure are so tied together.  Happy to sing about it for you.  Thank you for hearing my song.  Maybe one day I will record it better

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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