Naked Ladyness
Song to Hildy Maze

If I were a painter,
I would plunge into the ocean of your nakedness
and drink thereof all the colours of the rainbow
oozing in your oils
engollopped by your curvaceous gouaches
washed in your glistening fluid watercolors
stamped by your lithographic, obiliscoid monumentality.

If I were a musician,
I would capture your cackle
mellifluate your moans
serenade your sighs
symphony your sobs
libretto your laughter
and legato your luscious, dulcet-toned voice -
especially when sotto voce!

If I were a baker
I would culture your smile, your gaze, your aromas
into leaven of enlightened fecundity
permeating the dough of this seeming-solid body mandala
with fruitional expansion of all-pervasive space
baked in the oven of your enlightening warmth and compassion,
cooled with the ardor of authentic appreciation and ordinariness,
eaten with the gusto of self-liberated desire
of natural unrestrained passion.

If I were a man,
I would drown in your gaze,
swoon into wakefulness at the touch of your smile,
melt into co-emergent compassion and equanimity whilst holding your hand,
plunge and ride the luminous bindus of your self-secret essences,
and arise a true tantrika thanks to your blessings.

If I were a poet,
I would be speechless!

If I were a practitioner
I would dwell stable beyond thought
peaceful in the transmission of your wisdom-luminous red-lettered emanation.

If I were in the bardo,
I would see you and find you
and then our union would dance more stars into being and oblivion
making the Moon Herself jealous
of the blissful trail of sukra and blessings
we would leave in our wake,
glistening on her silvery beams
which tendril in feminine mandala sub-realms
into the dreams of those who lie sleeping below
all luminous,
all awake,
all enlightened,
if only they would know it,
and not fall back into the karmically obscured sleep of the outer body mandala
when they get up in the morning.

H.M, you are the cat's miaow,
you take the biscuit
the crème de la crème,
the Queen of Sukra,
the Body of Desire,
the painter of all poetry,
the poetry of all paintings,
the artist of the ineffable,
the Heroine of the Hamptons,
the beach of the best,
the lover out of time and mind,

A. H.
March 4 2015.
Cape Breton Island.