My lips parted and I asked the Woman: Woman,
how does a man make love? And she replied
with such direct simplicity: O - and
are you a man?
My ears blushed and my breast flushed full
I said Yes. I am. Listen, she said,
For a man first makes love with his ears.
He listens intently for the silent rustle
of love's whisper, of skin wishing to yield itself
to the hand's good touch.
From the fingertips to the soles of his feet
does a man make love his tongue
quivers at the mere thought of his beloved's form
carry the beloved's name whether it is known or not.
The lover is always erect, never asleep,
his attention steady.
His body is clean but washed with abandon,
not primped as some self-adulator. Every hair
on his body responds to the scent of his beloved
and his nostrils are always flexed for it.
What of her absence, I asked, How
does a man stand the loneliness?
She drew so close
I lost my breath in the sweetness of her kiss
and therein was imparted - as the vital sap of my loins
rose from root to trunk to branch - that
Woman is never absent.
A man can never love enough. To love as a man makes love
is to come out his top because
while he loves the Woman he worships the Goddess that she is.
Woman is a body and so she is every body
and all that is beautiful in the eye
of the Man who beholds her
And in recognizing her she must be touched
and kissed and carressed and looked at
and fondled, every inch of her
must be loved and dearly cherished first
for her to be enabled to enter
the body where she belongs.
My eyes hazed in sweat I asked How
is a Woman's body never absent? And her form
burst over me and I was bathed in her
as though she were liquid air, and I saw with all my heart:
Woman is an aura, and even as you would stimulate
all those areas of her flesh with your gentle fingers
and tongue so must you skillfully and generously
speak to her.
A man makes love
when he is direct and kind firm and assuring.
A man without sincerity never makes love there is
no interest there and no balls.
A man makes love
when his gifts are frequent and thoughtful -
their spontaneity is what makes them original.
Timing is everything for the man.
Never an abusive word never an abusive gesture,
never even in jest hurting the Feeling of the Woman -
That is how a man makes love.
For him she is ageless, a man does not make love
by judging looks or counting rings on a tree.
His eyes are fixed on the Woman timelessly.
I have wondered, I began - and she quietly
inclined her face to hear -
Can a Woman love too much?
She smiled and brushed my forehead
and my temples with such affection I held her
hand there with mine and breathed
its touch into my pores. She answered,
She might change her mind as to the choice of men -
but she cannot love too much. No one can love enough.
When a man makes love he is knowing all the time
that everything beautiful that he could ever set eyes on
or give ear to or touch and hold,
every expression of beauty,
every affectionate gesture is Woman.
That is Whom he loves.
And Woman? She is herself the bottom line
and the last word
on the very Beauty of God.