Tag Archives: body

My Birthday weekend ((me ∞ me))

 On Monday, I will turn 63!  –provided I live that long, and I really hope I do.  It has taken 63 years to get to this point, and I will revive a custom began when I was about ten, of recording my thoughts as I walked up and down my street with a clipboard, my thoughts for the last day that I am a particular age.  

I typed most of these crudely on an old Smith & Corona typewriter –long gone, nit even a phto of th typewriter I had, on which I wrote many short stories, including, title may be stated incorrrectly, “Great Catastrophe of the Mysterious Clock/Watch? ”  –sounds like the language I would have used back then.  

 

Different this year, because I will ponder my last day as I remain in love, really for the first time in my life.  I know I was married for forty years, but I have never been in love like this.  Say what you will, but I am delighted to finally love ths way.  Means so very much to me, a lifetime, you know.  

What I cannot say is that he loves me as I love him –that would be perfect wouldn’t it?

I remain confident that the day is coming when I will be able to say that.  I just feel this; no, it is not a feeling like the supected presence of a ghost; there is nothing at all hostile here, more more like a calming breeze, he wrote to me:

“Sitting by a calming fountain in Kiev, just after the bells of St Sofia rocked the plaza — real rocks of noise

I can say a few things: how crazy are you? am I? we?

Pretty crazy, I’d say!

You are a Go For It All woman finally free

You constantly inspire, and I wish to too

Standing off to the side and cheering you on

Hey! Watch out for that banana!

The Mnemonic of Yr Palindrome

TMnOYP” 

 He also wrote a poem for me from which my Dream Baby nickname derives, and his : Higgs or Higginson, for the most remarkable thing, the Higgs boson! –explains why partcicles have mass, could not have mass without them, and please allow me to talk about right here, the mass of his kiss, and the necessity of writing an entire book about his kiss, “New Kiss Horizon” 

 

new-kiss-horizon

There can never be a better love than this! –never!  –all I can say is that I always want him in my life.  I have enjoyed an entire new life because of him.  I do not know how to thank a man for doing what he has done in my life, but he must be thanked.  I can’t allow what he has done to  pass along without recognition, and even if I can’t reveal his name, I assure you that he is real, the gravity of Higginson is very well known to me. I feel his profound gravity most of the time, I am a celestial body always leaning to him, never out of his orbit, never, the cream in his coffee, and that fine journey down his throat, me a bulge in his neck as I continue my warming track descending through him, all six feet of him, the very aroma of me even bursting throgh his blue eyes like dew, drops of his Dakar cologne manufactured just by thinking of him, and what it meant that the first time we kissed was after he had waited 25 years just to kiss me?  

Can you comprehend just what a kiss that was, is?

 

I said to him, “You like my Forked pink Facebook hair, don’t you?”
“Of course, I do. Fishing lines, every strand; that’s part of how you got me; you know that, don’t you?” (He always liked that hair, video still from my youtube video” “Forkergirl Particle Pops a Beaded multiverse):

 

pink-hair-forker-gyrl
next time, I will bite some beads in your  presence, Thomas Robert Higginson

“What I really like is how you get the sexy science; you understand Forkergirl Particle Pops a Beaded Multiverse —and you fill every universe in this multiverse, my multiverse is all you. I know that you like the forking me on Facebook where we reconnect, and you like even better the theory behind her, that pink hair just like those pink flowers I love so much, especially Clitoria, you like that flower too” — that flower that is part of this tiny body, Thomas, and you kiss it on the iPhone when we talk, daily now leading up to when you can kiss it in person. And I kiss you on the screen also…”

Excerpt From: Thylias Moss. “New Kiss Horizon.” iBooks.

 

“Vash, you’re not alone. You do have me. Don’t forget that. You do have me. I am not lying to you. You really do have me. I mean that. You do have me. And I love that video. Helped me get to know what you’re all about; helped me understand the child-woman you are. It’s not just your size, if that’s what you’re thinking… It’s your way of engaging with the world despite all you’ve been through. You don’t know how sexy your attitude is. If there aren’t hundreds of men beating down your door, I’d be surprised. I can’t be the only one, despite what you say, PSOG aside; he doesn’t count, to be expected from your first taste of much needed freedom. Other men have to see what I see; other men must want you too, Vash. Even dead men if you pass over their graves would live again just to want you, Vash. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t believe it. You’re making me say things I should probably keep to myself. But Vash, what I feel is so powerful, and that’s because of you. Vash, my feelings have been growing for 25 years

“These are not sudden or shallow. They have powerful roots. What I feel is deep, deeper than anything I have ever known. And it’s for you, Vash; all for you.”

Excerpt From: Thylias Moss. “New Kiss Horizon.” iBooks.

NKH COPYRIGHT NOTICE:

copyright © 2016 by Thylias Moss. Published by arrangement with the author.  All rights reserved.

 

“It takes time?” he said, and I quite agree. Took me 63 years to really be in love, and I just hope that he doesn’t mind that I feel about him as I do, for if he doesn’t, then my life really will be shaping into the “terrific” life that he also told me was in front of me, not that I can’t have a terrific life without him, but now that I  love like this, I don’t ever want to love another way.

I can’t say for sure, but I am willing to wager that there are very few men loved the way that  I love him, and even fewer men can say that I love them; as only he can say that.  

There are times that I feel rather foolish loving like this for the first time in my life –I am no longer young, but I feel so young thinking of him, and I no longer worry that he may not be worthy of a love like this, because he is; my heart tells me so.  I can’t explain it, but as each day goes by, I love him even more.  

 

I so want to post a photo of the two of us, but I am not so sure that he wouldn’t mind.  Oh I could post photos of him alone, and I think he would like that even less, because I would be posting them without his acknowledgement of that, or just my simply telling him, and he is such a private man, although he is a poet like me, so a few more pics of me; I know it is all right to use these.  

 

He called my the “Cream in his coffee“, so here I am:

Cream in my coffee

Cup of latte I had at B’ 24’s in Ypsilanti

now the song” “You’re the Cream in My Coffee”:

and here’s his poem:

You are the corner of my eye:

          Thomas Robert Higginson

                (for THYlias Moss)

You are my rent-a-poem

You are love jungle — Yoyo, hula hoop!

You are my closing costs

My plasma vibrator my single malt

You? You are my Tampa manatee

You are my Occupy

You are an eucalyptus octopus

And a haircut on an autumn day

Also submarine. Surreality check.

You you…! You YOU you!

That’s who. The Temple of Shenanigans,

AKA Shenanigan Temple.

The complete works. The leftovers.

You are what I’ve been waiting for

And now I’ll never wait anymore.

Dream baby, you are, and indefatigable,

That, too. And you are the cream in my coffee,

And you are the one, and you are my everything,

And you are everything I could hope for.

And still you are more, and still you keep coming,

You are coming like a river, like a torrent,

Like an all day-lollipop where every day is today.

You are the Castle of Doubt on the Plain of Forgetfulness.

You are one more and able to laugh it off.

My sunshine, that’s what you are.

A rocking chair and a band-aid. Violin castanets.

An elusive perfume. You are all history. You are

Breakfast and you are on your way and all

I can do is list, name, and hand out passports.

Because you are who you are in a way that is all

Your way and which, as a poet trying to set it down,

Failure, I am a failure in that you will always be

Something to me both bedrock and ineluctable,

A passion of opposition and an unchecked probity

Of Probability and yet a chemical formula not to be

Tested. The Higgs bosun, that’s it exactly. A gluon.

A ramshackle melody. A forgotten memory that

Never happened and when all is said and done,

Actually nothing was said and nothing was done.

That’s why I keep writing endlessly penning, because that’s

Who you are and when I stop, Surprise, you are

The surprise, you are the inching to the summit,

The chocolate razor, the tadpole’s pole and the

Gate to the Fields of the Lord. I sing you praises and

The answer is more like a light fog saxophone, a

Kingdom Come revelation, a hunch that blossoms

To birth a new species. An appointment for lunch.

Some nectar in a tube, a pillow. Like the new language you

Are, if I could write that I would, you in a race car,

A pendulum, a fire tower, a blimp. A pothole, narcissus,

An a capella cantabile, a big bucket of milk. I can run alongside

You but can’t keep up with you, your tapdancing

Shadow, your clothing made of earth and spit. But I know you

And when you wish me Happy Birthday I trade it for yours,

You not growing old, you everlasting, you infinity you.

–It is my birthday weekend, you know. 

And now some photos of me age 62 –for just 2 more days!

I am wearing his hat; it’s in the drawer of this desk, right beside me.  The photos of “Higginson” street signs were captured by Nancy Boutiler, who told me this about them: “I thought you’d like this photo that I took in Salem, MA
As you probably know the Rev. Francis Higginson joined the Massachusetts Bay Company to form a “plantation” in New England.
Higginson led a group of about 350 Puritan settlers (including many of his own congregation) on six ships from England to New England.
His son, Rev. John Higginson was a leading investigator in the Salem witch trials of 1692–1693…oh, and there were others…
Enjoy the pics.”

Dream Baby” – “Cream in My Coffee”  –two of my nicknames from his poem’ black dress is my “Dream Baby” dress, I wore on my last date with him at Vermilion in Chicago.  Had Duck Vindaloo Arepas,  Sri Lankan Whole Fish, Gin and pomegranate martinis , my fisrt drink of alcohol.. made me sick.  At the time he didn’t believe me, but when I saw him in Minneapolis,  he restricted me to one drink, knowing what had happened and how I had been honest when I told him I had never tasted anything stronger than Chardonnay.

Some of my photos that I know are some of his favorites; he, probably, like any other normal man likes all of them, and the natural hair, no weave, no extensions, no relaxer –he can run his fingers through it without fear, just under 5 feet tall, and just under a hundred pounds without ever dieting.    He’s a foot taller than me and about double my weight. Sure wish I could post that pic of us; it is wonderful! –you’ll have to take my word on that, but then again, for my birthday?  I turn 63 only once, Forgive me, please if it is wrong to display this, but no name.  Just a man , no “THE” man I love….  Don’t get me wrong, nothing makes me happier than to care about him, but to touch him, to kiss him to b kissed by him –I wrote a whol ebook about his kiss, oh yes! –his kiss is that spectacular, just look at him –I wrote New Kiss Horizon wbou what kissing him is like, in which Thomas Robert Higginson says this: “

“Vashti doesn’t know that when I first saw a book of hers with her face all over the cover, I was instantly drawn to it. Her book was in the window of a small bookshop, a new poet, but poets don’t tend to look like that, oozing such sexiness, her lips parted in such an exciting way; I immediately imagined what could slip between those soft pink lips. Me in her mouth, in and out, as natural and as rhythmic as breathing. Vashti kissing me between my thighs; my hand in her hair, pulling it a little, wrapping those long strands around my fingers, burying my nose in her hair.

What a dream baby she is; I knew that with just one look. I got ideas for my fantasy right then, a store with only Vashti products.

Right then and there, I made it a point in my heart, although I was married, to get to know her better, to be able to hold her; maybe pure lust, but I felt it instantly. What a sexy woman she is, and aging in a way nothing else does, as if her clock moves in reverse. She looks more stunning and younger all the time.
I just stare at the picture of her in my mind, as I always do anyway.

“Almost too young for me, and I no longer look my best; I have put on so much weight, but she talks to me as if she doesn’t see it, but how can she not? I know it’s there, and I don’t like it.”

Excerpt From: Thylias Moss. “New Kiss Horizon.” iBooks.

copyright © 2016 by Thylias Moss. Published by arrangement with the author.  All rights reserved.

The first real kiss from him was so, so special! –in the taxi from O’Hare to the Mandarin Moon  hotel:

“—we sit beside each other, and you can wait no longer… You pull me as close to you as possible, as if I’m already part of your body…
—Now I’m going to do what should have happened to you years ago! But I’m glad I get to be the first man to kiss you this way. I pull you to me —gently — I don’t have to ask you about this; we’re alone on this back seat; the show is on my road now, my desire has built so much that I cannot wait a moment longer; I will not wait a moment longer! —why should I? —
—we could not be closer —
Every fiber of your coat is now part of me; and the scratchiness of the wool is just the texture I crave! —I don’t want anything about you soft; just some of the things you whisper in my ear, and even then, I’m hoping for some edge.
I can’t believe the strength, the possessiveness of the pull. Strong, but I am not forced. Powerful, but I am not forced.
I willingly allow myself to be pulled into you. I no longer have to wonder how to negotiate the transition from friend to lover as that transition is already in progress — so smooth; I can feel myself  twirling and spinning in your arms (fantasy galaxy that I also am)… So easy to imagine dancing with you… You want me, Thomas, you claim me, Mr. Higginson. You don’t say anything, just pull me closer and closer as you take me to the “Mr. Thomas Higginson School of Kissing.” I’ve never been kissed like this… I have never kissed a man the way that I kiss you…
I remember when you said this to me and wrote me this just a couple of days ago, and seemed impossible then, but not at all now:
First,
Baby
I can’t wait
To taste your kiss again
and again
Kiss kissing kisses
Slow you lead your
Beautiful tender lips
Just to rest there
So quiveringly touching
The moment itself
Kissing
 
That is exactly how you’re kissing me… and I cannot resist you. I don’t want to.
You kiss me and I kiss you back —I can’t help it! —not what I planned; I had no idea that you would kiss me this way —as if this is the only kiss you get to have for all your remaining life, and you want to make it last, make it count; best kiss on every scale of measurement, I have to quickly learn how to kiss you —you already know how to kiss me, how to make me feel that no man has ever kissed me before. You want me to feel the depth of these kisses… Depth charge kissing, Fuse-ignition. I’m surrendering to you already… I can’t help it…”

Excerpt From: Thylias Moss. “New Kiss Horizon.” iBooks.

NKH COPYRIGHT NOTICE:

copyright © 2016 by Thylias Moss. Published by arrangement with the author.  All rights reserved.

 

 

Thylias Moss (Dream Baby) and Bob Holman (Dream Lover

Dream date with a dream man, as we stand on a bridge forever connecting us, Chicago, 2014

If you have not yet been kised the way that this man and I kissed, making me forget 40 years of marriage with a single kiss, making me feel orgasmic just from kissing him  –just wait util we got in room 304 of he Mandarin Moon —you better believe that I plan to be in that room with him again.


Thomas, I hope you will always cherish this picture of us; it is hre in honor of my birthday, and how you say I am “not getting older, me everlasting, me infinity me: (me ∞ me)

I invited him the fist time, and now, it’s his turn to invite me.  I will definiteely  come     there.

He will be 69 on 10 March; I will not forget. I never do. He is too important to me to ever forget his birthday.

______________

Read all about it in “New Kiss Horizon” on sale now!

copyright © 2016 by Thylias Moss. Published by arrangement with the author.  All rights reserved.

new-kiss-horizon

More info available here:

 

“New Kiss Horizon” my 13th book (a romance) links:

NEW KISS HORIZON LINKS:

Link to “New Kiss Horizon” on Smashwords:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/683373

Link to “New Kiss Horizon” paperback on Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/New-Kiss-Horizon-Thylias-Moss/dp/1540584496

Link to “New Kiss Horizon” Kindle book on Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/New-Kiss-Horizon-Thylias-Moss-ebook/dp/B01N1K0PLC

Link to Thylias Moss Amazon writer page:

https://www.amazon.com/Thylias-Moss/e/B001JSBOQQ

Vashtis Blog (narrator of NKH, maintaining a blog so that readers may keep in touch with developments in the character’s life beyond the book):

Vashti’s blog URL:

https://vashtisblog.wordpress.com/

Love During Nine Climb

Walked up and down the three staircases in my building nine times today.

And these selfies are the outcome.
Hiding nothing, not even my bad teeth.
I am so very tired.

Tired and impatient.

I want my life to begin; I want the closing on my house so that I have only one address. I want to be loved just a tenth of the amount that I love. Surely I don’t want impossible things.

I live in Ann Arbor, not Ypsilanti, and I can’t even get facebook to understand that.

my ex called me this morning to say I obviously “love” the wrong man, if he can hurt me and not care that he is hurting me, saying noting, and that may be true. I do not care anymore;

and my ex is the last one to tell me how to get a man, since he is a man who couldn’t keep me.

 

VASHTI IN John's lap

I was 17, sitting in the lap of my ex.  He was nearly 24. I made the pink skirt.

 

It has been a trying day already

So many people tell me not to love him (see below), but it is too late for that, because I do, and it is my heart to break, not yours. Because as I have said, once I give my heart, I give it, and if he chooses to abuse my heart, that is his choice, but tells me things about him.

I gave it, foolishly perhaps, as if I planned this, I didn’t.

If he wants to be just another in the string of men who have hurt me, starting when I was sixteen; I will be 63 in two weeks; if that’s what he wants to be, I guess he gets what he wants; I sure don’t since I –ouch!– still want him.

 

THYLIAS MOSS AND BOB HOLMAN on a bridge in Chicago 2014

love in full bloom in Chicago

I don’t think I look unlovable. I have been completely honest. This is simply how I look, how I woke up, bad teeth and all, yet I smile anyway. At the end of the world, I will be smiling.

fullsizeoutput_328a

in his hat, of course.

 

I had the best conversation ever with my mother today,

 

wheelchair-mama

 

and I will be posting a transcription on my Facebook page shortly, after I say this: You know I love you, and if you don’t want me to love you, that’s my problem isn’t it? I fell in love with you. You loved me also, I know you did. Everything you said you did, everything you said, every kiss, every caress, everything you wrote, including this:

“You are one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met. You’ve meant so much so deep to me and I just can’t let it go this way.

Loving you, connecting with you deeply via life and poetry, fantasy and caress, was like a new skin. I wear it, but it’s yours.

You have inspired me, informed me, danced me. Your beauty is a trauma to quotidian. I relish your attack on life. I’m in awe of it.

My heart sang to you and you heard and your response, to me personally and in your writing, in our talks and in our shredded breathing,

There’s an electricity of positivity that charges me still.”

and in answer to a letter I wrote you, you said:

“Of course that means ongoing, and how that works with collaborating, mutual performances, seeing each other etc etc —it’s all there, we just don’t know what yet, and that’s the beauty you have given us in this letter. The truth of it.

It means so much
It means everything”

I am naive enough, trusting enough to believe you –have you really never been loved like this? The love is still yours for as long as I feel it. Please treat it with respect.

You asked me to respect something, and I do. But, Sir, you also have to respect me.

 

On 3 Auguset 2016, you told me that you love me.  Has the cat got your tongue now?  Specifically, you said this:

 

“Thylias,  It is Love & that is all, it is kin and Life itself. 

Sending you strength

To which I said this:

You know that I accept this.  I like hearing that it is Love. 

I’m just afraid that it might not be love tomorrow.  

I love knowing that it is Love, I need that more than anything… 

As long as it will continue to be love, I am fine.  

No one can say how long it will continue to be love on this Wildest of Rides, but I am glad to take this ride with you.

Thylias

 


For more of this fascinating love story, read “New Kiss Horizon” by Thylias Moss. Wannt to know what I say to him? Read the book.  I say it all.

new-kiss-horizon

NEW KISS HORIZON LINKS:

Link to “New Kiss Horizon” on Smashwords:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/683373

Link to “New Kiss Horizon” paperback on Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/New-Kiss-Horizon-Thylias-Moss/dp/1540584496

Link to “New Kiss Horizon” Kindle book on Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/New-Kiss-Horizon-Thylias-Moss-ebook/dp/B01N1K0PLC

Link to Thylias Moss Amazon writer page:

https://www.amazon.com/Thylias-Moss/e/B001JSBOQQ

Vashtis Blog (narrator of NKH, maintaining a blog so that readers may keep in touch with developments in the character’s life beyond the book:

Vashti’s blog URL:

https://vashtisblog.wordpress.com/

Relocation

The time has come.  Goodbye Ypsilanti, hello again Ann Arbor.

Tomorrow is the official day!  Dream Baby is coming back to town! 

Moved to Ann Arbor, Michigan from Massachusetts, became very ill, rupture of a cranial aneurysm , 2011, survived, against all expectations, and my life was forver changed for the better, improved I mean,  divorced after 40 years of marrage, a change I really needed, having married as a teenager who knew nothing, not really; I thought I knew a few thngs, but I really didn’t.  

Mostly, although I was married for such a long time, wedding in 1973, turns out that I knew nothing about love,  not really.   But a friend of mine (Thomas Robert Higgginson)  did, and we got together for the best weekend of my life, became the basis of a romance novel, I was finally able to write, my favorite book of all my thirteen books: 

new-kiss-horizon

New Kiss Horizon

details on acquisition of this book:

Link to “New Kiss Horizon” on Smashwords:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/683373

Link to “New Kiss Horizon” paperback on Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/New-Kiss-Horizon-Thylias-Moss/dp/1540584496

Link to “New Kiss Horizon” Kindle book on Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/New-Kiss-Horizon-Thylias-Moss-ebook/dp/B01N1K0PLC

Link to Thylias Moss Amazon writer page:

https://www.amazon.com/Thylias-Moss/e/B001JSBOQQ

Vashtis Blog (narrator of NKH, maintaining a blog so that readers may keep in touch with developments in the character’s life beyond the book:

Vashti’s blog URL:

https://vashtisblog.wordpress.com/

Presently working on a book about my father; a book I have needed to write for many years. He and my son (I was finally able to have) are the people most like me in the world.  My father was the most soft-hearted man –and I am soft-hearted too. My     son may be soft-hearted also, but life itself and the world not fully hospitable to such nature has tried to crush this, has tried to hammer it out of us, but my heart, agaist all reason, defiant in its softness had not curled up and died, the ventricles useless, chambers unvisited and exploited.

This too is legacy.  

A softer legacy to be sure.  I wish he had lived to know any of this for himself. 

My father - main portrait

This Heart will survive. 

Of course I like memories, but I prefer things of substance, the physics of what  can held in my hands, hot or cold, even if it burns, I want the marks of  living well, of knowing these feelings; there is a cost of knowledge, and for those who maintain the story of origins involving Adam and Eve,  the cost of knowledge was the loss of paradise, but I suggest  that the knowledge gained perhaps was worth that loss; for they gained a physicality that is very much enjoyed around the world, among all species the propagate –he way it’s  done: interaction and connection of bodies:

the actual paradise of pleasure.

WRITING NOW AND GRATITUDE FOR THIS ABILITY

 

I would also like to point out today just how lucky I am to be alive; I do not discuss my MS that much, because  honestly  I have no attacks of MS and haven’t had one since 2013.

From diagnosis in 1996 – 2013, I used needles, injectable treatments..

Travel was greatly compromised because of  difficulty in boarding a plane with needles.  And those were  injectable drugs, Avonex, the first, intramuscular, huge needles no matter your size, same for me at 96 pounds and for someone 200 pounds.  A side-effect was flu-like symptoms, and that is what I had flu, redness, and scarring, and injection scars on my thighs…. 1996-1998, then Rebif, a three times a week, subcutaneous injection, now flu three times a week, redness and scars, I still have scar tissue, lumps under my skin on my thighs.  I lost an inch of hip on each side, by the way.

Then in 2013, a capsule twice a day every day, no holiday exclusion.  But let me tell you what a difference the capsule Tecfidera has made.  My neurologist Dr. Tiffany Braley, has even remarked that my level of function is as if I do not have MS. 

I walk quite a bit, five miles last Friday. Please understand how remarkable that is.  Not only that I can walk, but at age 62, I can do this and even went skipping down the hospital corridor when I last saw Dr. Braley.  My friend started calling me “Skipper”.  Little things like that made me glow inside.

The last thing I will point out is my nearly impossible survival of an aneurysm rupture.  I want into the hospital in July 2011, same night Amy Winehouse died, and did not not come home until 9 October 2011.  The actual rupture occurred when I was in the ER; had I not been  there, I surely would be dead.  I had to learn how to walk again, how to talk again  –it was assumed and predicted  that these were things I’d never do again, but the emergency brain surgery was performed by Dr. Neeraj Chaudary who says another MRI for the aneurysm is not necessary until 2019.  He too is amazed…. I have not had a single headache; of course, my head was shaved for the cranial surgery. 

After that, a great love of my life, but surely not the last, just hope I don’t miss it, refuse to sleep through my life, and I  have written a couple of books, no one thought I could do that, a man who dared to call me pretty, beautiful, and gorgeous

–please understand that no other man had ever called me that, just unsolicited catcalls  when I walked by…. I was married for 40 years to a man who never called me that, not even at the wedding.  And not even for my senior prom from high school, because he took me to that also, but did not dance with me.  He told me that he could not dance, and that my head would swell if he acknowledged my appearance positively.   


Prom Thylias, age 17


bride-thylias

Bride Thylias 1973

 

Thomas Robert Higginson did not care what size my head was.  I will always love him just for that, but there are so many more reasons.

Had the rupture of the aneurysm not happened, I  never would have seen him, because when I did not die, I realized it was my last chance to try to have MY life, so a divorce happened for a marriage that should not have happened; I was a teenager, and entered marriage blindly. 

post emergency surgery photos of Thylias Moss, following repair of a ruptured cranial aneurysm

July 2011, University of Michigan Hospital

 

chicago-taxi 

(Chicago taxi photo from: https://goo.gl/images/dztwNq)

This wonderful man had been waiting for me all this time.  And he really talked to me, and I really talked to him, it was so easy to trust him and tell him everything, the TRUTH! –that’s all I told him: the truth.  He listened to me and he loved my  poetry. It wasn’t about him then, but so   much of it is now.  I hope he’s not  embarrassed by the praise, but when  someone has done as much for you as he’s done, it is right to acknowledge that and express gratitude.  Even when he stops doing it. What he did remains true even if he never does it again in that season of doing impossible things, and that may be the problem, the things he did were impossible in a world  that depended on “possible” spines to hold the fragile together, that Vashti Astapad Warren and Thomas Robert Higginson bubble wavering in Chicago light and stretching thinner and thinner until it has to break for nothing that thin gets to last, it promises to last then has to confront its own, his own weak humanity moseys out in spectacular  crash and burn, the world has never seen such fireworks as those spines themselves spit and sputter in otherwise impossible heat of blazing love that will have to burn out for what can   sustain anything like that? Even Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego would have trouble despite their experience with a fiery furnace which is just what the Chicago taxi became: a blazing yellow spine navigating Chicago streets, seen best from an aerial view to better determine the exceptional impossibility that anything like that, such love in ordinary Chicago, the spininess of the yellow spine of dream best seen from above with the rest of heaven: it really was like that.

THYLIAS MOSS AND BOB HOLMAN - DREAM DATE

Vashti Astapad Warren and Thomas Robet Higginson in Chicago  

And then, then, wow! He kissed me in Chicago! And from that moment, my life has not been the same.  I owe him  my glimpse of a beautiful world; I could always  see it in my mind, but now I know it’s real, and that world is much better with him beside me.  Even if he lands elsewhere changing his mind and his heart which he gave to me for just a little while, life goes on doesn’t it?

I  like how he looked in that Chicago fire, my red lips, Kiss burned into them; I do not believe that any man could look better, even if he does not believe that, but I assure you that it’s true. 

When Thomas and I first seriously connected , I had pink hair.  This was when Facebook allowed me to be called “Forker Gryle” and Thomas always spelled “Gryle” “Gyrl”

pink-hair-forker-gyrl

But then the rules changed, the Facebook world was fragile also.  Such delicate dancing around and tiptoeing also so as not to disrupt anything trying to reach a  stage of doneness to be able to fight its way into the most unlikely birth, somehow succeeding for a time, best time, to be honest, as I must, of my life (I won’t be 63 until 27 February, 2017, and no, I do not expect to hear from Thomas anymore.  That would require a miracle best associated with that severed spine of dream, those bones stitching themselves back together as they refuse to die, strength of their  belief in their own existence and the Love that Vashti Astapad Warren and Thomas Robert Higginson, shared and will forever share.  (Bases for the characters in the novel)

No, he’s not perfect as conventional knowledge defines “perfect”, but Thomas Robert Higginson is perfect for Vashti just as Vashti Astapad Warren is perfect for him.

Thank you for everything, Thomas Robert Higginson that you did in the Higginson season, when Hurricane Vash  (a prose poam coming soon to Outlook Springs) also sometimes emerged with her fragile kiss of spine of dream. Some cookies crumble even inside a Dream Baby Tienda, and do not require those inevitable power failures in order to crumble and rock the flimsy house that somhow manage to stand until the wrecking ball of urban renewal that changes the neighborhood into something for the most part unrecognizable even to the man in the mirror.

I hope that you read this, but it’s true even if you never see it.  Truth has a way of lasting when nothing else prevails.  In the end  it will be truth that is the last thing standing: a true pillar of truth will be there.  And only a lucky and honest few will be able to see it, that Entrance to the “Dream Baby Tienda” (major part of New Kiss Horizon, Thomas Robert Higinson’s own supermercado)

Cover of NKH

Only for you, Thomas Robert Higginson  have I been, will I be “Dream Baby” my name taken from the poem you wrote to me, as was your name “Higginson” for the Higgs boson, also in your poem, my poem, our poem:

A Trip to the Tienda

       by Thomas Higginson

           — for Vashti

You are my rent-a-poem

 

You are love jungle — Yoyo, hula hoop!

 

You are my closing costs

 

My plasma vibrator my single malt

 

You? You are my Tampa manatee

 

You are my Occupy

 

You are an eucalyptus octopus

 

And a haircut on an autumn day

 

You are firecracker, salt, oil, vinegar

 

Things not supposed to mix

 

yet do.

 

You are jellyfish tentacles elongating my back,

 

dreaming of medusans all of which become you,

 

YOU, You.

 

Also submarine. Surreality check.

 

You you…! You YOU you!

 

That’s who. The Temple of Shenanigans,

 

AKA Shenanigan Temple.

 

The complete works. The leftovers.

 

Strangler fig, tiny seeds starting out on branches,

 

tines, grow to surround, encase the host,

 

leaving only figs

 

to take over

 

You surround me just that way, take over,

 

connect with me, to me: your host

 

You are what I’ve been waiting for

 

And now I’ll never wait anymore.

 

Dream baby, you are, and indefatigable,

 

That, too. And you are the cream in my coffee,

 

And you are the one, and you are my everything,

 

And you are everything I could hope for.

 

And still you are more, and still you keep coming,

 

You are coming like a river, like a torrent,

 

Like an all day-lollipop where every day is today.

 

You are the Castle of Doubt on the Plain of Forgetfulness.

 

You are one more and able to laugh it off.

 

My sunshine, that’s what you are.

 

A rocking chair and a band-aid. Violin castanets.

 

An elusive perfume. You are all history. You are

 

Breakfast and you are on your way and all

 

I can do is list, name, and hand out passports.

 

Because you are who you are in a way that is all

 

Your way and which, as a poet trying to set it down,

 

Failure, I am a failure in that you will always be

 

Something to me both bedrock and ineluctable,

 

A passion of opposition and an unchecked probity

 

Of Probability and yet a chemical formula not to be

 

Tested. The Higgs boson, that’s it exactly. A gluon.

 

A ramshackle melody. A forgotten memory that

 

Never happened and when all is said and done,

 

Actually nothing was said and nothing was done.

 

That’s why I keep writing endlessly penning, because that’s

 

Who you are and when I stop, Surprise, you are

 

The surprise, you are the inching to the summit,

 

The chocolate razor, the tadpole’s pole and the

 

Gate to the Fields of the Lord. I sing you praises and

 

The answer is more like a light fog saxophone, a

 

Kingdom Come revelation, a hunch that blossoms

 

to birth a new species. An appointment for lunch.

 

Some nectar in a tube, a pillow. Like the new language you

 

Are, if I could write that I would, you in a race car,

 

A pendulum, a fire tower, a blimp. A pothole, narcissus,

 

An a capella cantabile, a big bucket of milk. I can run alongside

 

You but can’t keep up with you, your tapdancing

 

Shadow, your clothing made of earth and spit. But I know you

 

And when you wish me Happy Birthday I trade it for yours,

 

You not growing old, you everlasting, you infinity you.

(from New Kiss Horizon:

copyright © 2016 by Thylias Moss. Published by arrangement with the author.  All rights reserved.)

 

Read all about them in my romance novel: “New Kiss Horizon” The book can last forever even if the romance in real life doesn’t, for that couple is in a world that seldom exists in reality, but I made such a world for them: in Chicago: “Let there be love” I told the pen and there was love in real life too for as long as it could last. I really am a better person for learning how to give love, how to receive love, and how to kiss in a taxi, #howtokiss #thomasroberthigginsonisthebestcarnalteacher

and now to commemortes the warmth and heat of those forever precious days: “Warm Water ” by Banks:


New Romance Novel!

I am extraordinarily pleased to announce immediate availability of that Romance novel I had been talking about!  

 

All about the romance between Vashti Astapad Warren and Thomas Robert Higginson

 

Title is NEW KISS HORIZON, an erotic romance that may be purchased now; perfect holiday gift.

Soem details:

 

NKH location:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/683373

other NKH details:

Title: New Kiss Horizon (NKH)

Author: Thylias Moss

Publisher: Smashwords, Inc.

price: 7.99  enjoy, An adult erotic book. 

Coming soon to iBooks, Amazon, just about any e-book format you can think of.   

Only a few of you knew that I was working on this, and here is is.  On a Sunday morning.

ISBN: 9781370811991

short description: 

I can’t reach this bar that you’ve set so far above my head… You’ll have to lift me to give me a chance to get it, but I do want it always above me, a fully movable ceiling that is pushed higher with each kiss. A replacement, a new ceiling, new sky of kiss, new kiss horizon…

 

Long description:

 

Vashti, a sexually repressed 60-year-old female poet finally finds the courage to divorce a man she married as a teenager, a man jealous of her looks, of the very equipment that makes her so appealing and this freedom allows 66-year-old poet Thomas Higginson to act upon the fantasy he’s had for thirty years of loving Vashti, actually holding her, making love to her, a fantasy he acts out by visiting a store of Vashti, his fantasy come to life, and of course, entering that store is really a sexual act, for he’s entering Vashti, even if just in his head that somehow Vashti seems to control for she has awareness of all of these Dream Baby Tienda events.

 

Novel begins with Vahti’s background, and Thomas enjoying his fantasy at the Dream Baby Tienda; he’s been interested in Vashti Astapad Warren and loving her in his dreams, in his fantasies for 25 years. Every aisle has forms of Vashti on the shelf. He feels a little guilty because he’s married, but Vashti is thoroughly irresistible to him. He tries not to give in to his fantasy’s demands, but he fails, realizing the attraction he feels is much too powerful to deny.

 

He invites Vashti to be in a movie, and he wants to begin making love to her right then, but he doesn’t, as both of them are married, but he wants to anyway; he finds Vashti to be the most beautiful woman in the world. He comes to the university where she teaches, and Vashti is in the audience, and Vashti loves how Thomas Higginson performs, but Vashti is married to a non-poet spouse, because beautiful Vashti was raped and became pregnant from that when she was fifteen. Then Vashti meets the man she marries three weeks after the abortion… He is not sensitive to what has happened to her; she is 16 when they meet, Wesley is 23, not a good match at all. Thomas is a much better man for Vashti; he always knew this, but takes a little longer for Thomas to charm Vashti twenty-five years later when his weight gain worries him that he will not be attractive to his fantasy woman.

 

During the twenty-five years since they meet in person for Thomas’s movie, Vashti marries an infertile man, and almost doesn’t get to have a child of her own. Vashti’s spouse cannot accept his infertility, and refuses to accept a sperm donor, but Vashti insists on having a child.

 

And ultimately this child more like Vashti than anyone else in the world causes the dissolution of a marriage that never should have happened, but Vashti’s mother was only too glad to get Vashti married off, and since Wesley was interested, Vashti’s mother agrees to the teenage Vashti marrying a man much too old for her. Now that Vashti is free, and Thomas Higginson’s wife has died, Thomas and Vashti become friends on Facebook, and as soon as Vashti changes her relationship status, he contacts Vashti, as he has during those years since the filming of his movie in 1988, as friends not as lovers.. Once Vashti finally divorces in 2013, this sexually repressed woman tries online dating and is extremely disappointed, so when Thomas contacts her to begin dating, Vashti is occupied with a man from an online service, and Thomas has to wait a little longer. But Vashti soon realizes what Thomas wants, and Vashti is fascinated, although this man has gained a lot of weight, at least thirty pounds. But after 25 years, this man and woman meet, and Thomas is delighted, but Vashti fears that she cannot compete with the fantasy version of herself, and they agree to meet in Chicago, once Thomas is convinced that she will become involved with the man from online dating, and when they meet, there’s instant attraction, and Thomas makes good on everything he has promised Vashti. Vashti has the best intimacy, best kisses, best sex of her life.

 

 

 

 

Cover of NKH

Truth of DELIGHT at last

A Very long Post about Love:

Despite those who have advised me to drop or forget Mr. Delightful.

It is not as simple as you may perceived, because I really do love this man, whether or not it seems to make logical sense, even if you want to call me a fool, I still love him, and I do not love him today and stop loving him tomorrow. Maybe I will meet someone else, but until I do, this Hopeless Romantic really loves THAT MAN.

This love is deep and real, and he must decide what to do with it; I gave it to him, and all of it is his. If I am a fool, I am not the first. Maybe I will stop loving him, but it will have to its natural time; if he is indeed scum, then maybe I just happen to like scum. But he is better than scum. How do you know that he isn’t filled with regret?

How do I know that for sure either?

Maybe this makes me the most foolish woman in the world, but until I do not love him, I am not giving up on love.

Lord knows, I am not sure at all what this means. Nor am I asking you. Whether I am called “Dream Baby” or “Eucalyptus Octopus” or “Trauma to Quotidian” –all of these names came from Mr. Deightful’s poem to me, the poem I still believe is about me.

I like these names. I like that they came from poetry. I like when I started calling him my “Muse” and he corrected that to “Mr. Muse”

At first I was concerned that so much poetry in my new book, “Wannabe Hoochie Mama Gallery of Realities’ Red Dress Code” was either written about or with “Thomas Higginson”, but now I am at peace with that, because I still love the man, and as long as that is true, I’m not turning my back on loving him.

I am not sure how he feels about that but it is my love to give him, and since I have given it, I am not taking it back.

Cover of “Wannabe Hoochie Mama Gallery Of Realities’ Red Dress Code

You were not with him; but I know a tender side of Mr. Delightful and maybe he did tell some lies. Maybe he did allow me to believe one thing when he had made other –temporary– (one can never be sure with him). I know what makes him delightful.

No; he is not perfect, but then again, neither am I.

A entire chapbook of poetry that Thylias Moss wrote with Thomas Higginson is available right now at Amazon as a book for Kindle, and you may also be able to get this chapbook as a softcover book (I will check again this week), but if you would like a collection of collaborations between Thomas Higginson and Myself, “Aneurysm of the Firmament” (spelled correctly in the chapbook, ad actually not on the table of contents in “Wannabe“), then please acquire this chapbook containing only poems of our collaboration which has been long lived.

aneurysm_of_the_firm_cover_for_kindle

(buy the chapbook and Wannabe at Amazon here)

You just do not throw such things away. I hope the chpbook lives on after I do.

I kissed Mr. Delightful, well, he kissed me first, and then I really kissed him as I have never kissed a man before. That kiss told me everything worth knowing, and the kiss was real, so until and unless I find someone else… He is not easily replaceable. He is not toothpaste or only the flavor of the day, but he is mighty tasty –you wll need to read the romance novel for more details of my inspiration.

You weren’t there. You do not know.

It is not as if one day I decided, “hm, I think that maybe I’ll fall in love with him” –happened naturally, and if I fall out of love with him, that will happen naturally too, and for the moment I haven’t.

Maybe this is a man I will always love. I’m not going into all the details now. And whether or not Mr. Delightful ever knows of this, I am stating for the record, that I simply have never lied to him, and I am not starting to lie right now. When I told Mr Delightful that I love him, that was /is the TRUTH, and I am also saying it now, because it is the truth, that I still love that man, and no advice can change my heart; if an when it changes, I will say so. I am not vindictive; I just love that man as I have never loved a man.

I gave my love t0 him, and it is up to him what to do with it. It is his. I do not withdraw it. That is how serious my heart is. It is his decision what to do with my love. If and when I stop loving him, I will tell him first. But it will not be today and not likely that it will be tomorrow; sorry if I disappoint any of you. Sorry if this only seems to prove that I am fool; I would rather be a fool for love than for anything else.

I have a precious connection with this man, and maybe there are not many women who would love him as completely as I do, just as he is, flawed and everything, but this one does.

I told him once that when he becomes 70, not that long, 2018, he may find a need to settle down his very active life, and guess who will be waiting for him? His “Dream Baby“, his “Eucalyptus Octopus” [which he corrected to “An” Eucalyptus Octopus” as written in the poem], his “Trauma to Quotidian” will be there as long as I still love him. Love is like that, and can be stable, and not trusting him does not mean that I don’t love him.

Among many things, no way that you can ever know all of them, he wrote this to me:

“It’s a gut kick to me and I know I hurt you which ricochets back and painful. I couldn’t take it further, Thylias. I am sorry that the realities of life —my family, my job, my grief — consume me in a way that broke the spine of dream. Were we younger, were I more open, if only I could have put my responsibilities aside and blahblahblah.

I’m a bad guy if you want that, Forker, but when I think about our damn dream time together, relive the drama interplay spontaneity of the performance we did, all we shared and held, for me—

It’s a friendship that I treasure deep. Always will.

I would ask you to consider this an offer to continue our friendship. To support each other in a new way.

In any case, know that I an here for you, always will be, in a way for us still to find.

Love,
Mr. D

and he wrote this to me:

“Dear T,

What a moving and lovely letter, what a heart you got, a wondrous one, one that I got to know better, and better, and loved in the way we loved. A mind that evolved those feelings into literature, into a story for the ages.

And that art means so much to me —and this letter, just as much, meant just for me, explaining me back to me from you perspective, and through your lens. Our friendship has moved so many places the world cannot contain them all, and still goes on, growing every whichway.

So thank you infinitely for this gift of all possibility and the settling of the words’ world into a mutually respectful and fulfilling friendship. Of course that means ongoing, and how the works with collaborating, mutual performances, seeing each other etc etc —it’s all there, we just don’t know what yet, and that’s the beauty you have given us in this letter. The truth of it.

It means so much
It means everything

D”

You are not aware at all (well, maybe you are also so lucky); but you are probably not aware at all of what it can mean to kiss this man, but one real kiss from him, not the sweet peck in the airport, but that extended foreplay kissing in the back seat of the taxi all the way from O’Hare to the hotel, completely erased 40 years of marriage, 44 years with my ex-spouse; it was as if no other man had ever kissed me –please try to understand the power and promise of that kiss.. and helped me understand desire and expression of love as I have never understood it before. Forever transformed me in the most “delightful” way.

That kiss will forever be fresh in my mind. I even have a bottle of his cologne that I spray n my sheets to get into a bed of him, recalling instantly what it’s like being in his arms. I play the music we exchanged with each other; you can’t hear it, but it’s playing right now in the background. I listen to a playlist of it when I, this woman with MS go walking my 5-8 miles, and also on the playlist, because I love the sound of his voice, is a recording of the support he sent me so that I could listen to it, as I was writing about the two of us –I would listen t ohs voice all day, inspiring me to produce my best writing, in my opinion, ever, and in response to some of that writing, also in the chapbook, by the way, but not in “Wannabe” from which the poem, “If You See Something, Say Something” by Thomas Higginson’ with my addition / extension was rejected for “Wannabe” but was a poem published by “The Fiddlehead of Canada,” by the way, but Mr. Delightful wrote this to me after I completed that poem, before the Fiddlehead publication:

“”Skippity,

Sitting by a calming fountain in Kiev, just after the bells of St Sofia rocked the plaza — real rocks of noise
I can say a few things: how crazy are you? am I? we?

Pretty crazy, I’d say!

BUT certainly it is a continuously reviving poem
A fantasy dream and reality scream
You are a Go For It All woman finally free
You constantly inspire, and I wish to too
Standing off to the side and cheering you on
Hey! Watch out for that banana!

The Mnemonic of Yr Palindrome

TMnOYP”

I can’t say what is going to happen. It is not my job to predict the future, just live it as long as I can, the best that I can and if I live it loving him, so be it.

I really do love THAT MAN. And this is a fact. Sorry if I disappoint you, but I am not disappointing myself. I really do lovehim, and it was not a choice. My heart did this. I do not involve myself with multiple men. Good for you if you are able to do that. I can’t and I don’t want to. I once told him that I would rather not have a man, if it can’t be him, as long as I love him, and since I do love him, I guess it’s many manless nights, a lot of tears, a lot of loneliness, but a lot of love for him to try to keep me warm in the coming winter, when I will be living somewhere else — he wrote ” Of course that means ongoing, and how the works with collaborating, mutual performances, seeing each other etc etc —it’s all there, we just don’t know what yet, and that’s the beauty you have given us in this letter. The truth of it.”

Mr. D, as delightful as he really can be, also wrote this to me, when I really needed it:

“Thylias, I feel from your letter that you need an immediate response to help ease you into that house, into yr mother’s dementia, into Mr Moss’s inflexibility.

Somehow it seems the fork of love will give you strength. That is strength I want you to have. Because this fork moves poetry and heaven and earth and hell and all history and muse push and language rush and Amstead and so so so much else, the All of It, I want to simplify my response to: I give you a life of strength and support in our friendship, and let you define the love for you.

My own personal life is not part of that equation. That is for me to live. This is a privacy issue and not important to that house you are going into. Please accept this as the eternal strength and support, or as long as you need or want it.

Godspeed.
D”

(By the way, I need it forever  I want it forever)

And after a discussion on, “letting me define the love for me”,
Mr. D sent me this on 3 August 2016, not that long ago at all, :

““Thylias, It is Love & that is all, it is kin and Life itself.
Sending you strength

D “

to which I replied:

“You know that I accept this. I like hearing that it is Love.

I’m just afraid that it might not be love tomorrow.

I love knowing that it is Love, I need that more than anything…

As long as it will continue to be Love, I am fine.

No one can say how long it will continue to be Love on this Wildest of Rides, but I am glad to take this ride with you.

Thylias”

(we even have a poem about this “Wild Ride” of ours,

and here is some of it, (should have been in the chapbook also, my mistake, well, for the next chapter f the next book, because there will be one, of that I’m sure; Love demands this, and even if for mow it seems that it is only me loving you, so be it… As long as I love you, it must be this way):

Higginson The Thrill Ride

Every emotion possible to feel,
I have felt with you –highest highs
of my life
(also the lowest lows)

I once thought the Blue Streak at Cedar Point
was a tremendous roller coaster,
but you surpass that by far! –as
“Higginson-Higgs-Mr. Muse-Mr. D”
any of your personae—
I have been everywhere with you
yet nowhere

(and I wouldn’t trade this ride for anything).

You Are
The Wild Ride

(Higginson)

Loving it

“Higginson The Thrill Ride”

Every emotion
sighest mighty riotous highs
belowest lows)

the Blue Streak at Cedar Point
roller coaster blasts past
my past into your past passed
but you surpass t
“HigginsonHiggsMrmuse-Mr.D”
everywhere with you
butt nowhere

(and I wouldn’t trade this wild ride for anything).

Remember when I wrote a poem, and you couldn’t respond w=exactly as you would have liked, you wrote this to me:
“Thylias, wow, si o non

sionon

Great word

I am honored beyond beyond

But my plate is so big of full right now I can only make a new word and push on-words

Sionon it is on my part

You have my permission to use everything but I must beg your forgivenness in being unable to come out with the resounding affirmative the Soul cries for because I just do not have the time to do that. My film work, Ford Fdn work, poetry work, the Club, plain ol work, on and on —

I just want to ask for yr understanding on this.

OK, BFF?”

and this led to a poem in “Wannabe”
“Sionon Epoch” also in the chapbook

The primary point Mr. D, always so damn delightful to me, is that my Soul still cries out for you, and I may be a fool, but I am your fool; it is entirely up to you what you do with your fool,

and for a time you were foolish with me,

and I just want to remind you, that very few men, maybe no other man, is or has been or will be loved the way that I love you, and though I will not use you name, you know who you are, just as in that recording of the poem you wrote for me, and I can prove it if necessary, after I rejected a poem you gave me when I found you reading it online and complained that it wasn’t written specifically for me, and then you wrote a poem that I knew was specifically for me, with the references to particle physics; you know me Mr D, better than anyone, and when I hear d you reading it you saud, “It;s for somebody who knows who she is” amd she dies, she is me, your “Dream Baby“, your “Eucalyptus Octopus“, your “Trauma to Quotidian” your Thylias, apparently always yours, for the long haul

me in the “Dream Baby” dress :

Thylias in Cushnie dress 2 copy

and speaking of long hauls, surely you remember when you said you would “drive an 18-wheeler full of condoms down my street”? –really might need that many for the next time I get to be alone with you.

It’s not just sex, but loving him, melting every time his breath was on any part of me, his hands,  the weight of his palms, his exquisite tongue, his lips, sex became sublime.  

I will see, won’t I? –he said it, he wrote it, and the “written word” is just as sacred to him as it is to me –no there’s no “ring” on it, but there is something that maybe even better, the rings of love around my Saturned heart.

I just don’t know what yet. But maybe something, and just as I am worth waiting for, with all this love I have for him, he is worth waiting for also. And so I do, committed to the love itself for as long as I feel it.

I am getting so much closer to what I really need, for a future as uncertain as futures must be if they are unwritten, and they are.

I do not live a pre-determined life; I know what I want, and I am determined to have it, whatever that means.

I am 62, no longer middle aged, and since it isn’t likely that I will live to be 124, it is necessary that I act on whatever I can, and living in my own place, on my social security, and yes, loving a man, taking a chance on what I feel, because what I feel is real,

and I know I might sound crazy, and I know you know, or think you know who I love, but my feelings are real, and I have already given them to him, so they are his, and he knows this, and what he decides to do with his gift is up to him.

I do not give something to him and then withdraw it. That is not who or what I am, a so-called or proverbial “indian-giver” (and me personally, as a member of this heritage, have not known such phony-givers, and knowing myself, I am not about to be one now).

This is my only life, and I want to live it truly and honestly. I am the one who must face myself in the mirror, and I want to like what I see. (I know you like what you see in those photos of me, Mr. D; you already told me that, many times). That’s all this is: my chance to live the life I need; the life I want, preferably with Mr. Delightful, and that “terrific life” he told me I would have, and not just because he told me; I will have it regardless, but so much better with him than without him, which is what he meant, as I interpreted it anyway.

Terrific life” with or without him, but much better with him… He also said to me: “Relax. It takes time”

And that is exactly what I have for you: Time.

Just as you waited 25 years just to kiss me, I know that you also understand time, but, please, not another 25years. Neither you (aren’t you already 68?) nor I at 62 have another 25 years.

But I will keep waiting. And while I wait, I will work on rebuilding trust. I know you didn’t want to have to tell me what you told me, but even that did not destroy the love I feel for you. Dampened it, because you evidently could not wait for me as I waited for you, and still wait; Dampened, but did not, could not Destroy.

I can’t promise you that I will still be beautiful when I am 70
and you will be 76 (!)

–I can’t believe that I am saying and thinking such things about a man as old as that, but you yourself told me that love doesn’t care about age when you carried me on your back in downtown Chicago, and it was obvious to anyone who saw this woman in the short form-fitting skirt, even shorter for being elevated on your back, and where your hands were (under the skirt) as you carried me, and where my hands were on you and you know that the form is also real, and unaltered (like your banana, if I may say so:

“Hey! Watch out for that banana!” 

The Mnemonic of Yr Palindrome

TMnOYP”)

 –unaltered

like my love for you;

it was obvious what this aging couple had done, just as it was obvious to that taxi-driver seeing that aging couple making out in the back seat of his cab what we were going to do as soon as we were alone in that hotel he drove us to; everyone knew, what we had done and were going to do again and again…

The way the registration clerk chuckled. Such a terrific moment.

All of them. All of them Mr D.

I have to be willing to accept the bad moments with the good, –love demands this–true love does, that is, but when I list them, the good is ten times longer than the bad.

Face it Mr. D, I love you plain and simple.

no matter who or what you love. or think you love.

My love for you is certain
–and if or when it isn’t, I will tell you.

I cannot offer you more than that.

And I would not want to offer you less.

whoever you are, sweet mystery man, my sweet mystery man, standing bside me on a bridge in Chicago, bridge to a terrific life: 

This “terrific” photo has its own life, as does this “terrific couple

They have met in the center of the bridge… Desn’t matter how they got here, but here they are. And here they belong together. Everyine can see this, as you sad yourself: “That time was Delight” –you said that becase it was,it is.  

The photo never dies, and nor does the love, Mr. D.

I love you, just as I  loved you yesterday, just as Iwill love you tomorrow.  Whenever you’re ready, you know where I am.   

“Higginson”: The Thrill Ride”

(another poem for Mr Delightful [it should have been in the chapbook, and I will add it to the chapbook]. Hard to say who wrote which line; lines meant to be together just like Mr. Delightul and I. 

copyright © 2016 by Thylias Moss. Published by arrangement with the author.  All rights reserved.

Higginson The Thrill Ride

Every emotion possible to feel,

I have felt with you –highest highs

of my life

(also the lowest lows)

I once thought the Blue Streak at Cedar Point

was a tremendous roller coaster,

but you surpass that by far! –as

“Higginson-Higgs-Mr. Muse-Delighful”

any of your personae—

I have been everywhere with you

yet nowhere

(and I wouldn’t trade this ride for anything).

You Are

The Wild Ride

(Higginson)

Loving it

“Higginson The Thrill Ride”

Every emotion

sighest mighty riotous highs

belowest lows)

the Blue Streak at Cedar Point

roller coaster blasts past

my past into your past passed

but you surpass t

“HigginsonHiggsMrmuse-Delightful”

everywhere with you

butt nowhere

(and I wouldn’t trade this wild ride for anything).

Our Usness!

My favorite picture of Mr. D  and myself; nothing would make me happier than being in  his arms again, arms meant to hold me, look at them; look at us.  

New Agent!

Not much to say, except that I will be talking tomorrow with a new possible agent for my romance novel.

 

Third time is a charm,

 

or so I’ve been told.  Ever hopeful, that’s me, Thylias Moss, a regular hopeless romantic.