Letter, April 30, 2017

I feel the press of your breasts and soft skin around me, everywhere, coaxing me to flower into you the erection of my body, the life of my poetry. Your light comes in flashes of intuition, falling upon my face as through the sunlit openings of an orchard, and I heed with the attentiveness of my whole body, the animal soul in me. Your dew falls like an erotic enchantment and a buoyancy comes like a fountain rising from the depth of my soul; suddenly I find myself harnessed in shafts of wheat upon the altar of your body, ready to burn, ready to become dough and bread, ready to feed upon the milk of your breasts and the honey of your skin. Your body is the world, the element I am living in, moving through, and this eros, this tension between us mercilessly opens me and challenges me to become in the thrust the man that I am. So I take you, as I give myself to you, as through you I slingshot myself into the sky of eternity.

Woman of silk and fire, woman of milk and honey suckling my wildest desire.

Free Verse # 368 (checkmate, orgasm, poetry)

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Photographer unknown

All day all night
in her skin
dancing with the muse,
each etched verse
a chess move;
the spiral culminates,
checkmate, orgasm,
poetry.

~

Your belly
the altar on which I place
petal by petal
all the poetry of the world;
set aflame
your skin drinks the ash
and you become
the world’s poetry.

~

If I could touch her I would choose to quiver her heart with poetry.

~

Of his breath
she constructed
a seashell
and therein she slept
cradled all night

~

He ached
to rage over her
and into her
like a wild storm,
pressing her into him,
a seed in his soil,
planting her spine
in the dirt of his being.

~

I could only touch her the way sunlight caresses the face of the earth in the early hour of dawn.

~

A small cabin
in the heart of the woods,
snow falling thick
erasing everything,
and you and I
hemmed in,
by the window
drinking tea or wine
and reading poetry.

Free Verse # 366 (before you I am an unfree man)

Dawn…
the fragrant skin
of the woman I love
a thin veil covering
the garden of the world

~

Poetry is my form of worship,
with it, through it
I consummate my being
and lay it open
at the doorway of your sky,
a yearning flame quivering
in the heart of your sea.

~

I wanted to touch you, so I wrote you poetry.

~

The living in me had resigned
to be the flame of a candle
shivering and lost
in the contemplation of her eyes,
and what burning tears I wept
I scribed – holy poetry.

~

With death
I inherit the rain,
the kiss of lovers,
the breath of the sea,
flowers sigh at dawn
and I am in their yearning,
a thread in their lust.

~

At dawn
he trembled inside of her
as his eyes lay
fixed into hers,
his hips
the slow motion of waves
pushing,
her body
his harbor,
his eternal shore.

~

Before you
I am an unfree man,
a lightning born
of a boundless womb
and wanting, for your sake,
to incinerate the earth,
merge it with your sky.

~

Enmeshed
our bodies burned
in lustful fires,
melted
to a foaming point
then emerged,
a full moon parting
rough waters,
seeding the belly
of the dark sea.

~

Night descends
and I swell into her,
the shiver of my flame
cradled against her spine,
a full moon from her navel
whispering pure white.

~

Against my neck
in the quiver of her lips
the wet voice of dawn

~

At dawn
through the window
her scent wafting in,
the woman I love,
the woman I always wanted
to touch with my heart.

~

A dark moon glowing
her skin where he confides
the secrets of his heart

On the Altar of Desire

This overflow of desire
held her in place
on his burning altar
where the fires of his poetry
in aching waves
licked at her skin,
melting her, moulding her,
consuming her to ash
and from his flesh reviving her,
eternally reshaping her,
in the intimacy
of his endless embrace
a poem exhaling the depth
of darkness and light,
each quiver on her lips
a moaning flower,
a soft, glowing star
in the gushing river of the night.

Free Verse # 335 (the sun of her love)

As the day rolls I think of you,
your violin body
flowing through my own,
a river weeping tunes
of sadness and exquisite joy,
pure poetry.

~

Like wounded water
her body flows

~

I entered her,
a tree taking root
in its aboriginal soil,
its leaves now puddles
of burning blood,
its fruits the harness
of the world’s fires.

~

Over her breasts,
between her thighs
squeezing the moon
into gossamer streams
of poetic sighs,
sodden verses invoking
the sun of her love.

~

In the middle of the night I wake
and call out your name,
my throat a river of burning salt
aching to be balmed
in the warmth of your kiss.

~

He was a city of fog
where poems
like wounded birds
came in to die

~

Her sensuality she carries
like a mane of fire,
the roar of its flames
licking earth and sky,
harnessing all poems
to hang them in its fur
as brilliant stars.

~

Carnelian flame…
her lips staining
the silence of my heart

~

As his tongue
parted her pink petals
her back arched
and her lips sighed
like a sea swallowing the sun
to become the vapour
of eternity

~

She pulled him
against her neck
and the perfume
of her skin and hair
engulfed him,
in his breath
the spray of a sea
older than time itself.

~

I burn for her in a way fire never can.

~

My heart
a quiet corner
where a rose
teeming with your scent
blossoms and grows

~

At her touch
my bruises become
puddles of sky and water
where dawn and blue gardens
blossom and thrive

~

The candle’s flame
gathers my blood
into a nest of ache
fervently waiting
for her blood
to join my own

~

Autumn birds,
their solitary songs
playing in the woods
call us back
into a forgotten intimacy,
a language without words,
a speech of inner vibrancy.

~

Silence hovered about him
like an ashen, gray cloud,
and the hills leading into his world
were shadowy and steep,
clad in rumor and secrecy.

~

Dans ses cheveux
mon souffle
un oiseau étoilé

Free Verse # 308 (stealing her breath)

Autumn morning…
in the distance
smoke lulled
by the cool wind,
nearby
a farmer tills the field
as birds in the tree clamor,
behind the grove
a running stream murmurs
and I feel her in the air.

~

Stargazing…
tracing the cosmos
in the deeps of her eyes

~

Stealing her breath
his mouth became
the breather
keeping her alive…
…alive yet burning,
a flaming wing etching
the breadth of his sky.

~

As the Phoenix
from our ashes we rise,
rebirthed again and again
on the altar of our love,
burning, a self-sustained fire
singing the whole sky.

~

I wait for her
like a flower awaits
her inner light to burst

~

Windless eve,
all my thoughts pooling
in puddles at her feet

~

All his passion
a grape
cradled on her tongue
then crushed,
fire surging
down her throat,
flooding her veins,
incinerating her heart.

~

One layer at a time
peeling the shadows
off her heart
while staying focused
on the light inside,
her radiance,
her dawn.

~

In waves she rushed
back and forth,
and he waited for her
receiving her
with the patience
of the wide open shore.

~

On her lips
he polished his breaths,
honed her tongue
to a lightning of stars.

Free Verse # 307 (holding her close)

Touching her
she knew
what it is to walk
through flame,
be born of fire.

~

One breath
to fill her;
one breath
to pour all my heat
into her bloodstream;
one breath
to make her womb quiver
gushing out her core
in streams.

~

He loved it
when their eyes met
and conversed,
two birds chirping
in mid sky,
from branch to branch
flying,
singing love
pure and high.

~

Photographer, Benjamin Cosson
Photographer, Benjamin Cosson

Moon through the window…
a sea of poetry
aglow in her skin

~

He stole her breath
sighing in her ear:
now your breath
lives in me,
kissing me is the way
for you to breathe.

~

Scrubbing her skin
with salt and lemon,
preparing the feast

~

Winding endless
through her curves
the fragrant trail
leading him home

~

Tracing poems…
her skin a nightsky
pouring with stars

~

Five favorite things:
the sun in her smile,
the sky in her laughter,
dawn in her eyes,
the river of her hair,
the aroma of her skin.
One more, one more,
the thunder when her breath
from her silent lips rolls.

~

This poem
a wick,
flaming
as it touches
the shiver
of her breath,
burning
as the wax
of our bodies
melts,
joined,
soldered,
a delicious
mess.

~

Listening to her
one silent breath
at a time,
sipping her words,
her presence,
her eyes,
through them plunging
into the deeps
of her ocean heart.

~

His breath
in her skin…
a garden
of wild flowers

~

Ever so full
her wax and wane
in the sea of his heart

~

Holding her close…
closer than a heartbeat
to a beating heart

~

Touching her core
a moan on her lips forms,
an erotic flower
weaved of dark wine,
hot in her need
to have him sip,
drink it whole.

~

On the shore of dawn
her whispering lips
unfold my heart

Free Verse # 306 (of annihiliation)

Her flesh
a sea of moonwater,
light flowing liquid
in supple waves;
my poem
a ship of jasmines
sailing her white curves
for all eternity.

~

Amid her ribs
my poem made nest,
at dawn and dusk
with the birdsongs it rises
brushing her wide eyes,
in halcyonic waves
flooding her chest.

~

The bird of fire
made nest
in her eyes

~

His lap
the seabed
forever welcoming
her gushing waters ~
her supple flowings
and wild temptests
held forever
in his fervent seat.

~

Wrapped around her neck
the breath he weaves
in the silence of his heart

~

He longed to kiss her
the way a fig in autumn
bursts open full of sun

~

Her skin
a field of flowers
vying for his touch,
clamoring restless,
burning fragrant lust.

~

He touched her in places she didn’t know exist.

~

He touched her,
she moaned,
and night itself was a river
gushing from her core.

~

We existed to the extent that we were annihilated in each other.

~

In his palm
she folded her dreams
yet each fold became a sky

~

Bathing her skin
night grows incandescent
as if lit from within,
itself a spring of light,
itself a fountain of grace.

~

I feel her in my bones…
autumn wind stripping
silence to its core

~

Sadness
in her eyes dwelled
like clouds
in a summer sky

~

Dancing
with the infinite shadows
cast by her hair

~

Folding her into me
as she unfolds,
each breath,
each quiver,
each heartbeat,
a poem grown wider
than the face of the sky,
a womb more fervent
than the sun of life.

~

To have the curve of my tongue
burning all the poetry
into every curve of her skin

~

I am a living well
gushing forth endlessly;
yet with her I am a sea,
a sky without end.

~

Photographer unknown
Photographer unknown

His touch
bathes her
in a sea of light

Free Verse # 305 (sown in his earth)

Breathless passion,
words like flames
flickering,
into the night weeping
a heart gone wild
on the altar of her skin.

~

Her skin
the shuddering sea,
and I
ever the mariner
longing for eternity.

~

He touched her
and she knew
she was a being of fire,
the linings of her skin
burning blades weaving
the ether into a vortex
of voracious sin.

~

Photographer unknown
Photographer unknown

Sown in his earth
his profusion
in her gathered
the elements of her skin,
his breath
in her igniting
a life of poetry.

Free Verse # 304 (setting her free)

One stroke
at a time
curling her limbs,
inward, outward,
burning her,
molding her,
painting her,
writing her,
at last in me
binding her,
setting her free.

~

Winding streets
to nowhere…
solitary hearts

~

Trailing his skin,
her lips in sickle moons
etching the night…

~

Photographer unknown
Photographer unknown

All these words,
passion spilled
in burning dewdrops,
soliloquys I keep weaving
in the folds of her flesh,
in the cosmos of her skin
nebulas giving birth.

~

If she be honey
it is because he gathered
all the flowers’ nectar
in the labyrinth of her heart

Free Verse # 303 (under his fingers)

Photographer unkown
Photographer unkown

Under his fingers
she quivers,
each touch
each breath
in her skin
a piano note
rippling the sky,
shivering
the world,
a sea of poetry.

~

His touch
in her skin
a burning wick
melting away
her flesh
in fervent layers,
hot wax staining
crimson canvas,
painting
a bleeding heart.

~

On caffeinated lips
her sleepless passion
swirls in wisps

~

Open up and give,
scatter your smiles
so the world may live

~

Her breath
over the lake…
mist of dawn

~

Night again
clasps her bones
and she feels them
unfurling
a flower in his palms

Free Verse # 302 (how music is made)

As for my life
it begins and ends
on the hidden curves
of her shore

~

Poem of fire
in her flesh weaving
the sun for a nest

~

Twined at the artery
that pumps fire
into the sun
our flesh shivers
as the seams of our skin
melt and merge,
oned, a being of light
exuding poetry.

~

Smearing her lips…
the nectar of a poem
bloomed in the sun

~

Photographer unkown
Photographer unkown

How music is made…
bodies entwined
like crescent moons,
their light quivering
the soul of the night.

~

Wearing her kiss…
one crescent moon
at a time

~

By my window
the candle flickers,
its whispered breaths
birds of fire
roaming the dark night,
their flaming wings
etching in the sky
the way leading you home
to me…

~

Photographer unknown
Photographer unknown

In her navel
the dewdrops of dawn
he gathers,
a fountain
of tender moss and milk
flowing
softer than the light.