I used to keep track of everything. Journals, diaries, my inner world.
Pluto has just entered (well, is on the cusp) of my 5th House and Pluto’s transit through my 4th saw me moving a lot and throwing a lot away.
So last night when I was looking through the old poems I was surprised… I was actually surprised how many of those poems were sex/love poems. How did I forget? And I began to wonder if I had changed at all. Had my longings changed. Was I still the same 27 year old girl seeking redemption through the almighty………. Never mind 🙂
(And no doubt this project of mine of 30 poems in 30 days is Pluto (obsession/sex) beginning to tour my 5th House of The Fuck and if you thought the 8th House was the House of The Fuck well it’s both.)
I’ll tell you this: I was certainly devoted to my subject matter and we all have Pluto SOMEWHERE in our charts, natally and by transit and thus we are obsessed THERE.
Thursday (Moon in Libra!) the 31st feels like preparation for Friday’s love and sex events: Mars entering Pisces and Venus in Aquarius!
Does this match your chart? Your lover’s chart?
I was writing yesterday that folks underestimate Mars in Pisces (thinking it’s not Mars enough) and then hmm it’ s not that Venus in Aquarius isn’t Venus enough… she’s actually quite alluring and magnetic in the sign (Uranus is exciting) just… don’t get too close, okay? You will find folks with Venus or Mars in Aquarius or in the 11th House who can do the Internet relationship thing long past the point of… health. But your mileage may vary. I have a water/earth chart. Those feelings need… a body, a home.
IN CENTRAL PARK
You tell me you’re not afraid of death
as we walk around the reservoir,
holding hands. You could be anyone to me.
Lights left on in the Manhattan skyscrapers
seem to run towards us
and your family in Bombay can’t believe the photos:
a park in the heart of the city!
“But Central Park is the lungs,” you say.
Last night, your headache wouldn’t stop.
Distractions of the home theatre
and two digital cameras were not enough to make you well,
three aspirin failing us once again.
A pushy throb at the forehead first,
the pain arched its way back like my fingers did
through your thinning hair.
Finally we decide to make love.
You push my breasts together, my legs apart.
It’s the first time. And when I taste you,
I taste mud and rock and water,
and I imagine I taste the gift a friend brought you from back home,
six varieties of mango.
If I could, I would find a spot right here and dig,
find fossils of the body in love,
not these trotting joggers,
couples panting around the park’s breathy circumference.
I would search for a woman opening her better half,
her lover taking that sweet nut between his teeth.
“That was good,” you had said,
your headache slowing, finally, to a crawl.
Meeting the old poems, I feel how constricted they are and I wonder about the writing to come. Jupiter has gone direct *somewhere* in your life. And Saturn going retrograde in February… I get the feeling of a tightly coiled spring finally uncoiling 🙂 at least for a little while that you feel free.