Tanka # 155

Her naked body
lying in my bed –
the whiteness of winter
pierced by the red
of autumn leaves

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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