Sensations
Like sensuous silk
lightly brushing by nipples,
deep in the perception
of changing mood
and pin point stimulation,
your granite pillar
and lava hands
break a crotch of mirror,
melt breasts of stone.
Sensations II
The wind in my head
echoes the cooler.
I am on the slash edge
of comfortable
and deeply chilled.
I will delay change for now
and feel sharply.
I will float inside
And eat music.
Wet Moments
My hands reach out in water
grasping for the soul of the sea.
I reach out the way a fish breathes
inspired by the trying,
satisfied for moving closer
to knowing the flow around me.
I cannot float though I am buoyant
teasingly held up by liquid hands
connected by the DNA of dreaming
to my core being
so that I’m okay with sea inside me.
Love, Weirdly
We were
the comfort of a fairy tale
we tried to live,
a waste of time that did not satisfy.
Now the show goes on
in another room.
We are a reality show
edited down to gossip.
We are an older couple
and one of us likes sex more.
We are retiring,
unsure of what we are doing.
We are holding our hands
around a farce,
possibly a slice of love or lust.
We are what salsa is
to an acidic stomach
and we want it anyway
for the unique bliss
we know we have,
for the touching of souls
previously unimagined,
for the sheer beauty
of striking the same note,
vibrating together
almost to the sea.
Still Life in Motion
In the lava slow tiredness
of anvil heat,
beneath our biggest fan
hangs a dancing girl
in Gypsy linen,
wind dependent in July.
Beside her, the heavy blue heart
barely moves in the desert house
yet glimmers from it’s sequins
indicate movement
and below it
a girl dances.
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