Blue like Coltrane playing Naima, deep blue, Indigo, Midnight Blue like the song, I mean, the one by Lou Gramm not the one by Melissa Manchester. Blue-black like that portrait that Joni painted of Miles, that blue. Standing on a lotus, six feet at the end Of six legs pin down crushed demons Now subdued. Demons that once disturbed My mind, now controlled as I now hold In my arms my lover Dipachakra. The nipple of her left breast turgid against my chest. She stands on one leg as the other Wraps around my waist and I'm hard inside her. Tumescent like the golden vajras in two of my Right hands, bolts of lightning imposed As scepters as indestructible as diamonds. One of my left hands performs the subjugation Mudra, and another lightly wraps its fingers around a trident with heads in different states of decay. It emits wisdom flames throughout the three thousand world systems. My other two hands grasp a meteorite kilaya, The thunder dagger, the phurba that destroys at the touch, And we make love. My white face and my red face, On either side of my head see all as my blue face Gazes into Dipachakras eyes, and we make love. Our slick skins slap in wild fury, and we make love In the blue-black space of the universe for eternity. Eternity is just a concept, a thought that is just Another drop of sweat that rains from our minds And becomes steam rising from the fire that Engulfs us. The night sky glows and becomes clouds At the tips of the razors that are my wings Which fan the fires like a sirocco. Even the winds are blue, my wings are silver-blue It is a blue-black hole that the winds fly through. My kilaya destroys all concepts and so eternity is Devoured as if the jaws of a tiger ripped Its gray fluid puffed flesh of rot, and it found death as disappearance into sapphire.