Mary Fae Smith


What Woman Wants

“Go deeper, Go deeper, Go deeper”

He told her.

He questioned her.

He begged her.

He pleaded her.

Not her. Him. Him Him. Always him. Deeper into her but never into him. What did he want from her? WHat was he excavating inside the mine field of her soul?

Entering through her womanhood and moving in.

Out…out. Out! She wanted out. She wanted him out. Out in the open. THat is where she wanted him. No longer insider her.  In front. Standing. Staring. Revealing.

He was no longer allowed to hide in the Woman.

She forbid it. Gave him no respite. Gave him no solace. Gave him no home until he built her one first…

And let her go inside. Go deeper and deeper and DEEPER into he man.

All the longing in her soul craved entry within.

How does woman enter a man?

How does she penetrate and plant her seeds?

How does she build a life within his love?

Serious now. She meant it. Meant it down to the fibers holding her together suspended in time.

“Leave me. Leave me be. I want you to go. Go far away. I can no longer be your home. You must find your own. I cannot replace what’s been lost in your soul. You cannot infiltrate mine and play parasitic host to mine either. Be yourself for once, you slob. Be Man. Not A Man. Be Man. I need Man. All of Man. In one man.

Let me enter into that.”

She cried in her pillow.

– Mary Fae Smith

© 2013

“I Melt” by Stephen John Kalinich

6 trees are quietly
blowing in the dark filled early morning
there is an eerie chill in the air
I am depressed
inwardly yelling and screaming
but nothing comes out of my mouth
it finds no place
to release itself
into a tangibility
yesterday gone so quickly
happiness just out of reach
powerless quest for the indefinable
oriental weddings
without young children
a room full
of sober adults
little joy expressed
broken in two
by experience
renewed so infrequently
vegetables crying out
no good l know walks here
unforgiving burdens
jewels inside us 9 miles
unholy Mussolini’s hung here
have been
put to rest
while your years go and hide
inside billions of cells
sewn into your fabric
heaven is a ideal
following violence and killing jerks us
into a startling confrontation
one under the radar
that ignores reality
forgotten told sexy stories
urges to unite and touch
well up within us
olive branches wilt upon the lawn
just beyond our grasping fingers
as we reach for the infinite
trapped in this limitation
that we call body mind appearance
united in what seems to be
yet another crisis
as we hold each other
76 kilowatts pursue
willing victims
found near the reservoir
our unclothed bodies
filter and flash
without a stitch upon them
we join hands and introduce ourselves
sharing food
with other helpless wanderers
who search Costco and k mart
moving to an invisible hypnotic dance
melting onto the matrix
as I discover and touch
your sweet Polish kindness
your being sparkles
I know you a second and want to kiss you
we drink green tea together
and discuss
meanings and honesty
realities and urges
ideals and practicalities
kindred journeys unite us
with grace
we glide
into stillness
we go deep
a sweet smile
of your life breaks through
there is so much that is unsaid
I gently sweetly kiss you goodnight
I am aroused
as you tilt your simple smile and face
towards me
in my mind
you take off your blouse
and caress me again
in just the right way
and I kiss your soul
so briefly
this new life
that has crossed my path
I wake up
without questioning the lightness
that surges through me
and I melt.

Stephen John Kalinich

Photo by Mark Mawston

All Rights Reserved

© 2010

“Once More” by Roz Levine

The last time my eyes saw his

He twinkled with mischief

Croaked how he’d shared his bed

With such a good old friend

The one who’d lost her breasts

The one with a heart as big as the Pacific

The one who breathed fire on him

His words whispered from a voice

On the low down of this battle

The big boom sound of yesteryears

Silenced by ALS creeping up his body

He whispered how his wife

Couldn’t bear to touch his flesh

Was she repulsed by the disease

Afraid of his coming death

Fearful of a life alone

He didn’t say what or why

Just whispered the beautiful

How it was to be close to skin once more

To feel a woman’s heat once more

To know he was still alive once more

Loved by someone

Desired by someone

Some place on this earth

Roz Levine

Photo by VC Ferry

© 2010

“She Becomes” by Anne Norda

She becomes
a vortex of small things.
Externally, the child needs milking,
the dog springs hopefully, eternally
in circles counter-clockwise
around her ankles,
and the man wants nothing
more than her every waking
thought and breath to be his
and his alone.

And the earth calls for nurture,
water and careful attention to detail.
Her neighbors want her to turn down
the volume.

She’s been rocking and rolling again,
forgetting the unspoken rule:
don’t rock the boat, don’t wake the folk,

dance if you must, but tango slowly
and silently behind the curtains
lest the world suspect
you’ve remembered who you are.

Not the god of doldrums and despair
as you’d once feared,
but the goddess of deliciousness.

Exultation is your deity.
Declaration your prayer.
And this, this very moment
your vortex of desire.

Photo & Poem by Anne Norda

All Rights Reserved

© 2010