Free Verse # 299 (breadmaking)

From her navel
the sun and moon
rise and set,
stars seep and flood
filling the world
with the galactic simmers
of naked poetry.


Making bread
their bodies
pressed into each other
in an ineffable union,
flesh kneading flesh
in an ecstatic motion,
restlessly breaking deeper,
shedding, merging, opening
until the moon
from their full womb rose,
white waters flooding
through the world,
gentle waves of heat
bringing the world’s jasmine
to a pure, simple blossoming.


Crush me with a whisper
softer than the light;
heal me with a touch
deeper than the night.


Sips of wisdom..
her lips the chalice
of eternal wine


The summer breeze
through her hair wafting…
autumn in the air


I sleep as the candle
sobs silently,
this vigilant creature
praying in hushed breaths,
in the air setting
a flutter of burning wings
covering me with the fragrance
of the one I love,
soaking into my dreams
her immemorial call.


Neither fog nor darkness
nor even blind eyes
can taint her image,
her clarity in my soul
burns brighter than any sun.


If I find time to write
it is because your eyes
give this ink its light

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