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under the plums

on love in Bolinas

By Taylor NealPublished 6 months ago 1 min read

coffee under the plums

and the sounds of birds


rustling in the trees

as I have
on this grassy land. 

my Temple has created a temple here,

of bird baths and candles and potted plants.

the man I love in the magic school bus, 




fragrance from the ocean washes in as

salty waves crash against

the cliffs below us

up on the Mesa

safe up high,

yet close enough to be reminded of water’s power

when one must be humbled in the fragility of humanity

so we tend to the gardens.

everything that is,

is part of our now.

balanced moments.

I breathe in and the breeze responds

with its exhale

brushing gently through my hair

like his do.

I sip slowly,

in solitude,

my drink warming from the inside

mirroring sun sensation on my cheeks


my bare chest


Do you ever watch something fall from a tree,

a stick or a leaf or a piece of fruit,

and feel gratitude for nature’s allowing of your witness?

tall grass swaying around me

perched here,

crossed legs on plastic

silent, somehow,

when alone,

but coming together in a chorus that invites one to sway

with them,

the grasses.

be swayed, 

eyes closed, 

up on the Mesa, 

we nest.

love poems

About the Creator

Taylor Neal

A multi-disciplinary artist, writer and sex worker's advocacy support worker, Taylor's cumulative practice comes together as a holistic exploration of identity, sexuality, and how the embodied subject navigates space and the natural world.

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Comments (1)

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  • Andrei Z.6 months ago

    It's beautiful, Taylor! I especially loved the lines '...and feel gratitude for nature’s allowing of your witness?' Simple, but so vivid!

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