FIFTEENTH

This kiss, then.Now and then, forgotten. This rain washing, time.Remembered in echoing moments.This lost, mad, wild haired king, moans - winds low-bellied, deep in brush.A crucified stag.The madman nailed and hung himselfagainagainandagainNebuchadnezzar growling, trapped in brambles, hanging, engorged, wild eyed.Ready. Resigned.Willing.

Fourteen

King Ram, a brideless exile, stalked by shades in the silent wood.Set, to rip a godinto 14 perfect pieces, reverentlywithin the Minotaur’s gates.Hot bull’s breathupon a shoulder, the burning teeth and limbs entwining.Now lifting an acacia lance, bodies unformed and reforming.Bull’s lusty urges, birthing onethe gift received, the life unfolding.The life unfolded, failing.The heated kiss, … Continue reading Fourteen

stay

It's just that damn cliche:I missour kiss. Your mouth wrestlingwith mine,with excuses and searching hearts, seeking For lost time. We were two wild birds fluttering wings,making noises, coos,next to the bookstore. Full of racks of used poets,all of them used, weathered,their author biosPeering at us through the windows. Through the rain. I wish I had … Continue reading stay

Her face

A waterfall of dark hair,frames her face - focusingeyes that grace you,a gift when they find you,to burn through your lies,the untruths you sell(mostly to yourself,the hell of twisted introspection) The lips, curve - paint the air,an artist framing you.Your tremble as she measures,her whispersweighted with her foreign tongue,pronouncementssighsand the sudden soundsof surrender Her face, … Continue reading Her face

tremble

your breath with mine your fingers in mine tremble the illicit heat the catching passion this public space this intimate touch tremble your back arching under my palm that presses, pushes guides and holds you neck straining under my mouth, aching your motions, your cries tremble the flushing skin, the nails in skin. release tremble

A Rapture

like a cat... lithe limbed, long torsoed, strutting across my path, that glance... and I am caught up in your scent, musk, your nails like claws now digging into skin, bloody gashes along my back... fierce bites - half-moons rising along my shoulders, my breath in yours, backs arching... screams in alleyways, bedrooms boardrooms... you … Continue reading A Rapture

Horse Hair Skier

Your nails still refuse to drag along my skin. Snow leopard. You... Your nails retracted, tongue curled, folded. Padding away into a mountains dark crevices. Where I, kokburu player, goat tosser extraordinaire, mad skier across Tuvan skies, lasso in hand and elk before me... am still not allowed to pursue. My rope whipping out, unanswered, quivering, inept.