Monday, February 3, 2014

taste


. . . to be honeysuckled velvet
beautiful naked - dressed in whispers & hymns ..
the quick prism of rain-dust upon your tongue
i reek of dreams & corseted wants
longing to feel the cold gray highway upon my back
as you press me to the thistled ledge
falling
cascading
sideways into galaxies & alleyways
quivering shivering
unbreakable
falling
i taste
you in dictionaries, Kipling & old movies . .
ancient iron biting my palate
staining my lips with snow
melted nectar marking a rite of evolution & passage
falling
into
a rising . . ,

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