Untitled

October 13, 2003

Slide down into the stream
and hope the ice doesn't feeze
out all the sensations between
the first touch and the last taste

Scream into the night,
"I want you to be with me,"
just like you used to.
Call out to the world
"I am Nothing but Love"
when anyone asks for your name.

And as we breathe it in again
our lips turn blue and velvet
dripping wet hair falling into eyes
like bodies that want this real.

***

In the heartbeating of time
I can still feel the desolation
of the ease you trusted I would
remain part of your mind.

***

I wanted the slightest echo
to reach you through mist
and convince you there were
things no one could sunder:
You and I.

I wanted the wind to catch
my scent and blow it over you
at night, when isolation creeps
and bites you all over, again.

I wanted the sun to rise
on a day of impossible colors,
then dry the dew from your lips
as the morning warms bright.

I wanted my lips to part,
to take you inside and pull
until the pain turned sweet,
wet, loving embrace turned high.

I wanted to scream
into the night, then laugh,
before the moon shone on me,
pulling out of me, your heart.

It was my dream.
It was my love.
Dawning, growing, or swelling --
newness that I named.

***

A kiss brought to life
by thoughts of red lines
and wet crevices glistening,
promising succulence and
giving me the desire to taste
your mouth, tongue, lips, rhythm,
nestled inside, under desire.

Devour the core of me
and call it whatever pleases
as my body responds
with wetter tongue lashing,
basting you in me.

And time may not stop
for us in our feast
but for some new time
between us two, we will be
at peace, taken out of
the desperation from knowing
that there is an end.

Time will keep moving us
closer, away, once we embrace,
but we will have it all
before it crashes and dies.

***

I just turn toward red skies
when the morning first wakes
and I think I can hear it all
singing to me about hope
that will make every minute
an eternity can take away
seem worthy of such sacrifice.

The dusty blankets on my body
rustle and caress as movement
shapes me into a wakeful creature
with the heady fragrance of love
in the most wishful hour
bound up into my head
with a sip of that nectar
seeping deep into my body
wrenching up the desire to do
all of everything over again.

Breaking the silence of sleep,
just one more morning is
wished well on its way.
Dressed, groomed, and fed,
suddenly my day begins.

The loving fragrance blends
into the pallette of all others.
The deep whispers of hope
are coated in restless abandon
to time, and the sigh of passage.

Then noise comes to collide
with the song of what
morning sometimes sings.
I open my eyes,
I lean my ears,
I breathe deep through my nose,
but it is all gone, now,
until night claims the sun
and your time takes hold.
Every hour between is shut out
of my head as the hours pass
slowly and restlessly.

Night brings home to me
the wonder of my world
with the same sensations,
the same incarnation
of these saturating feelings.