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June 16, 2014

The Only Guy In Yoga. ~ Michael Mark {Poem}

Photo: Taro Taylor

 

I know it.

They know it.

 

Sometimes the teacher announces it.

Breathe deep, Yoginis—oh, and Yogi.

 

Ha-ha.

 

Let’s get into our Goddesses—you, too, Michael!

 

Yuk-yuk.

 

I can hang with the girls.

In fact, I don’t need any hands-on

adjustment

to touch my feminine side

 

though there are times

my finely tuned intuition

picks up they’d prefer

to keep it among the

estrogen gifted.

 

I admit my eyes have,

on occasion,

beheld the glory of

of a slow rising butt.

 

No apologies.

 

It’s yoga.

Stretching bodies, soul-moving

chanting, deep breathing.

 

Humanity for a better humanity.

 

Yoga balances on

juxtapositions.

 

Simultaneously

pulling and pushing,

opening and retracting

 

like the universe,

like our minds,

like our—

 

um, I really don’t know

how

the universe balances.

 

Or our minds.

Or our bodies.

 

And that is why

I practice yoga,

girls and boys.

 

 

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Editor: Travis May

Photo: elephant archives

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