riding me into a coma.
vibrant like surgical steel stretched atop a violin body,
the only tool allowed to play its music
the sharp ends of a loverís teeth
plucking tiny pieces of skin
attached to living ends of nerves
never touching the ground
as you dance through life on tips of toes
forever pirouetting around loveís center of gravity,
forever gyrating around a sun held in your outstretched hand
its lazy flames lambent upon your skin
flickering around those tiny blue flowers kissing your elbows.
wait a moment,
in this universe
this is a physical impossibility.
So they say. Yet
look inside my universe
where truths are spoken only by unborn infants
by heretics burnt on the stake
and by suicidal poets.
The melting marble in your breast
The hidden smile in your protest,
That stain of sky
Inside your eye,
My dawn... wherever lies your nest.
Allow one day to paint your year
One word to swim inside your tear
If loveís the word
Then larkís the bird
To seed its tunes inside your ear.
Donít close your eyes when suns invade
The path you plowed across the glade
And sunset glows
Between your toes
Asleep inside the green brocade.
Just hang your clothes upon a branch
Let fading grief your shoulders blanch
Then like a swan
Your beauty don
While rhymes sublime your bleeding stanch.
Watch sizzling dew upon your skin
Entranced with dreams of scalding sin
Inhale your sighs
And kiss your thighs
Along a trail of blister sheen.
Then flare your nostrils... scent the breeze
Regard those shapes among the trees
The pale of white
The soft of light
The promise of dementing tease.
You slide beneath the hugging leaves
A crumbling star in silence grieves
A glimmer marks
Its dying sparks
As burning dust through eyelids sieves.
The soft of down the hard of steel
They near your lair... they touch your heel
They pull your hip
They crush your lip
A loverís hands your candor steal.
caress... you whisper,
I sink the chalice in the wind to pick a sleepy waft
And let it curl around your toes, between, and fore, and aft,
Then as my fingers follow suit like clumsy sunset thieves
Your skin ignites and tiny sparks roll summers into leaves.
sweetness... you whisper,
I sink my head inside the hive to pick a mouthful gold
And pour the glow between your lips with ecstasy untold,
And when your tongue lashes for more I call upon the swarm
Unleashing in your gaping mouth a raging pollen storm.
love... you whisper,
I sink my hands beneath the earth to grab its hot entrails
The molten ore inside my fist drags seven flailing tails,
You arch your back and shove your breast till nipples rape my palm,
The fire which consumes your skin... your bodyís only balm.
fire... who why how... again?...
ecstasy... you whisper,
I sink my body in that mine you lined with glowing coal
Your nails the masterís scribing tool, my skin your bleeding scroll,
We roll into the dragonís mouth and thrash inside the gore
Till splitting skies fall willing prey to passionís sudden roar.
gentleness... you whisper,
I sink your body in the milk decanted from a doe
Then dress your wounds with fragrant moss asleep beneath the snow
And as you rub into my cuts your mouthís embalming sap
My magic runes will curl your shape to sleep inside my lap.
You slept on your back,
The tiny flame escaping your half open lips
playing havoc on my mind,
this cannot be human.
I kept waving away the golden moths
whose only ambition seemed to be to burn inside this flame,
funny looking moths, indestructible,
changing shape and color each time they buzzed through the tiny pyre,
now they were gold, before they were yellow with green spots,
before that blue and shaped like winged lizards...
I neared my eyes, the air crisp and dry the more I approached,
sudden pain... no... pleasure
shooting through my eyelids as lashes caught fire
and turned into thin bodied minuscule butterflies
swimming inside my eyes,
I swatted the moths away,
they battled me as I approached my open mouth
inhaling the flame into my lungs and my lungs turning ashes
and my ashes turning poppy fields
and the poppy fields turning liquor pouring into your flame
sizzling, inebriating the moths and me
defining the colors of my insanity and the threshing of my heart...
I pulled back, panting.
Waited a few moments
then resumed my examination of your body,
not yet further down than your nipples
on my way to monumental discoveries and palpitating adventure...
nipples asleep, smiling the way sleeping nipples do,
cozily sunk in the unripe-apple sized mounds of flesh
called breasts on humans...
they should have been called loveís cornucopia of grapes on you.
I touched the right nipple with the tip of my tongue,
my mind set on tasting not on touching,
it woke up, yawned, stretched rubbing teasingly against my lips
as the left one started showing signs of life as well,
they always seemed to act as a pair...
then suddenly both pierced the air with a shriek
stretching against the surrounding sunsets
begging loudly to be cuddled inside my mouth or my palm
dark red blood pumping and gurgling through them
the smell of freshly baked bread and hot pouring chocolate
and cinnamon and wild roses invading my nostrils, the room,
the window panes fogging alongside with my eyes
as they tasted in my mouth like strawberries then like cherries
then like lumps of honey melting inside my throat
into the sting of bees...
Yes, I knew it was time to move on,
much as I feared and more as I desired.
I moved a momentís distance away
watching the wreckage caused by my aspiring want Ė
the moths still stumbling drunkenly around the roomís corners,
the thickly flavored fog
rising and rolling around those mounds on your chest,
your breathing undisturbed, serene, quiet...
I moved on,
past your white belly, lower,
I got up, froze time, and crashed through walls and cars
and trees and mountains till I found that meadow
and in the middle of the meadow the wild raspberries
bunches of which I cupped in both hands rushing back
through the mountains and the trees and the cars and the walls
repairing all damage done in my wild surge, unfreezing time,
your breathing undisturbed, serene, quiet...
I moved on,
past your white belly, lower,
Where have you been?
you asked, breaking the magic.
How do you know? I froze time,
I answered, trying to restore the magic.
You left that hole in the wall, my butt froze too,
you answered, caring not for the magic.
I pressed my open palm against your lower abdomen,
the tips of my fingers just beneath your navel,
the hollow of my palm crushing its life-line against the raspberry bunches
and squashing them on your tense flesh till a sweet-sour smelling mush
started oozing between the roots of my fingers,
while the heel of my hand slowly started pushing
against that mound of feminine delicate intricacies
now about to break through the chain of modesty
straight into the fabric of momentary timelessness...
Your pelvis shot upwards, trying to reach my mouth,
I gently pushed it back down
fighting against tenacious resistance every inch of the way
a hot throb enchasing cinders under my skin
and working its way to the back of my hand
through tendons and muscles and tiny bones,
while hand, then fingers
started moving downwards massaging the sticky sap
into your need, and moans, and insides...
I could not hold back your gale any longer,
you broke through my defenses defeating the steel of my muscle
and your fulminating intimacy crashed against my face
offering my mouth your raspberries, your chalice, your forest wine.
I donít remember the scream or the song, mine or yours?
as orbits changed and planets stuttered
and a drunken perihelion dropped me into the sun to burn to never return.
I dressed, quietly. You watched me without interrupting me even once, your eyes clicking frames into your memory for later rummage and ransack and pain. I finished tying my shoes, zipped my suitcase shut, refusing to look at you afraid the shine in my eyes might blind you... It probably would not, it was reflecting only a single sixty watt light bulb. Then why did I see everything so blurred?
ďIs it the end of Elysium or the beginning of Hades?Ē you asked.
ďThere is Lethe in between,Ē I answered, remembering mythology and refusing logic.
ďI prefer Hades. At least I know where I am. And I know it too well.Ē Pride, obstinacy, defiance. And that endless agony of getting a glimpse of that elusive Elysium. ďIs it the end of... poetry?Ē you asked further, hesitating for the first time, and for the first time I could hear the knot in your throat.
I kissed you with a passion I did not know I possessed, even at the preceding moments of abysmal mind and body abandon.
ďNever,Ē I answered, licking the blood from my lip and clicking the door shut on my life.
I fall asleep beneath a bench
inside a fog of humid stench,
the drunken rats,
the buzzing clouds of flying gnats,
one tender, sweet, enchanting wench,
and stinking rye in broken vats.
I puke, then roll away the rags
and weakly hug my plastic bags,
confessions to a loverís crimes,
her beauty... suns eleven drags,
my hazy mind a poetís mimes.
The dragonís lair infests the worm,
in blazing eyes decays the storm,
the fearsome knell
dons guileful guise of tinkling bell,
adoring stars embrace her form,
and welcomes me to sprawling hell.