There are women we see just once, and we see them completely… and others that we only discover little by little. Like you, Dona Conchita ...my Mnemosyne and My Isis…
I never fully found you. Always transformed, you ran away, re-appeared enriched, turned over your golden fruit and fled once more with the hope, but not the certainty of your return. You, my pretty bronze crab. Moving gracefully over lifes rocks and washed in the oceans warm swell. I wished to be that ocean to wash your skin. To be that ocean that brought you life.
I wanted to find the harmony of the contradiction that nibbled away at the apple of my life. To find La Conchita without ever finding her completely, was like never returning to a place, experiencing the comfort of recovering it there, but knowing that I would never completely know it or understand it. Like the secret of my soul.
The idyll of our meeting, the secret surprise: “Now, after this, I can only ever be your lover…”
Women! have always come to me I did not seek them out, I did not look for them: but they were an incessant nuisance: spongers, droppers-in, pests…parachutists…
The problem ultimately, has always been: how to get rid of them: I only ever tracked down You in my life, La Dona Conchita. You will never know that the ferocious promiscuity of this man who tracked you down so monogamously was only taking time out, that it was like a latent infection, a moral herpes, that made me confuse my social disorder with amorous chaos: how long could the distinction between social disorder and erotic fidelity last?
I place my life at risk, and close my eyes for a moment while I smell your dark hair – and pray that I will never fully understand you, that there will never be a third desire in my life, that I will never be tempted again to include my erotic life in the collective disorder in which I have been a victim and which I wanted to judge and damage for that very reason.
I know that you have your own dream. I met you in the garden of our spirits…
You dream that you never left that garden: as in some ancient book illustrated with the romanticized image of our sweet childhood. The curious girl opens her bed-room window to see the forest and venture out into it, but the forest had another door to a garden and that garden yet another door to a park and the park led to a jungle, and the jungle to the sea – which is the most mutable garden of all.
I thought that I had found you in that garden – never knowing that you had lived in gardens all your life – and that it was an illusion to think that I could have found you anywhere else. I have not just found you – because I realize that the garden has not been fully explored by me - but if I had to reach the end of the exploration, the doors of this storybook could well be the lock on your bedroom door, Conchita –
My dark haired girl of my heart.
I never knew of a morning with you, My Mistress
That. when I awoke, I was not happy..
My heart sung just to see your eyes…
And, when I sleep and see you in my dreams
And swim in secret oceans, listening
For your song here in The Deep
Your whisper of the Emerald Beyond…
Revives me.
I recall that I used to make love to you, just wanting to watch the expressions on your face...ahhhhhhhhh.
Just to have my fingers run thru’ that dark mahogany hair… your eye lashes fall like hawks descending on their prey, the lip curls quivering to the left, the small whimper…whimper that grows into the growl in the throat - rises to a screaming crescendo, the song starts…………..aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
I awaited all my life, on the pleasure of experiencing you. What I got was an experience in altered reality. Someone who looked like you or felt like you. I never wanted to wait in vain. Or even this long…
This is like no other story that you ever read in your life…
I have been alone all my life. Except with you.
After this story – the truth told….you will know that none of this is going to go away. It is after all your story … we grow strong in spite it. Or we die from it…
“Already knocking at heavens portal
In my arms I hold Heavens daughter
She’s the love I knew before
The end of time – I know her fire
Lost in the prism of her
Own desire
And we all dream and reach for it.
I found you because I LOOKED for you.
Each man walks down his own lonely road. I walk with your forever smouldering eyes, burning in my back. In my heart. Corazon,
I know no other way…………………….
All my life, you have been the Golden Cage of my Pegasus dreaming…but I never had to wish my days away. I had you fill my life with a story that is older than the sea back when Scylla, the She-Dragon lay in wait for Greek sailors. Which suits the Dragon in me. My Dragon jokes abound and bound around…Playful. If you could stop them, you could stop my breath. I prefer you to hear it from my own lips Sister of mine. My love for life was surpassed only by my love for you.
A SURE SIGN OF OLD AGE – WHEN DREAMS OUTMATCH REALITY.
I had to tell one you that one once: You make too much of sex. A persons sexuality is a private matter, of small moment. If it suits ones temperament to share it with some one person, that is surely only between me and that one person and no one else. Like for example… between me and Her. So why ask who I was fucking when you know I will not tell you. Or I will lie. It wont make it better to know…
Inevitable:: Esta noche voy contigo pequeña hermana y cada noche después eso, and only you. Dona.
“State of life - may I live - may I love
Coming out the sky, I name me a name
It is the very nature of the sound the game
Siamese, Indionese. To Tibet treat the life
As a game, if you please”,
But then, are we who we purport to be
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