Shall? Shall I tell you of the line Running errands down your spine, Of those burning spots that linger Way behind my hungry finger Turning skin to scream divine? Shall I plague you with the touch Dragging craves of never such, Plucking nipples to your lyre Crushing breasts beneath the fire As you moan... too much, too much...? When your naked white of thigh Burns its lust into my eye Shall I whine my ripping sorrows To a world of bland tomorrows As we soar beyond the sky?

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A Moment In Time Let the hail come. Let thousands of stone carrying fists rip egg-sized holes through the tin roof, battering into raw agony the countless pounds of human meat once composing my body now sprawling in post apocalyptic death above yours. I feel fingers spider-web thin click back in place my scattered spine fragments then guide my reluctant hand for a last visit to that swampy battlefield and its millions of dead soldiers. The fire crawls back into its sun. The meat turns flesh once more and as I watch you put on those flimsy feminine undergarments I drop a canvas between you and the world turning to masterpiece this moment in time.

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Straps The colored dress strap falling off your shoulder. The white brassiere strap now uncovered, white on blinding white, you pull it off when it does not fall of its own will down to your upper arm, lying there, limp, docilely waiting for me to decide its fate. I watch your neck, thin, supple, a swan’s tender shoot entrusting itself to my fingers as they slide down its side, touching your shoulder, my palm cupping itself on the warmth of the rounded corner refusing to continue before giving in to gravitation and desire and falling long your arm fingers hooking into the hanging piece of satin... pulling... it snaps like the dry resort of a starter gun telling... go!... Our mouths clash, teeth almost ripping through lips before tongues and breaths mix in the turbulence of imprisoned fury let loose as ravaging frenzy invades hands disjointed from reason and body parts disconnected from minds, a shower of cascading clothes uncovering the rage of flesh and exposing it to the sting of fire and demolishing dragons. My fingers turn claws offering your breasts the torment of vise while talons attached to your wrists encircle my nakedness pulling and as we match our swollen deformities we fall into that bottomless abyss ending in the death of a sun.

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Anonymously The door clicked behind you, Your heels clicking a dance known to you alone fading in haste into the noisy street, a huge smile hiding underneath huge sunglasses, rigid nipples hiding underneath a huge sweater, You sneaked away anonymously carrying a fistful of sun in your heart, you could not control the traitorous sunflowers springing up from the asphalt in your wake.

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Sheets Of Ice Sheets of ice, thin, transparent, cutting the gape between us to universes and sides and lives, thin, cold. You pressed your open palm against it rolling it slightly... trying to clear the view? trying to test its resilience to warmth, phantasm, desire? you pressed your lips against it... trying to help your palm or to chill that flame leaping from in between chattering teeth and threatening your eyes and reason? Fulmination, blast, fragments and splinters cutting flesh to bone melting inside gurgling red rivers while your reaching fingers groped for my throat, chest, shivering muscles and as we rolled amongst the screaming needles contorting into the thousand shapes of love sheets of ice poured down cutting our bodies to slices, to snips, to slivers... Forces unknown pulled us apart, our bodies howling our tongues squirming as sheets of ice shot up once more between us their hiss poisonous, deafening, my severed fingers still attached to your ankle with the fading taste of sunflower still between my lips never to forget that look on your face carrying the memory.

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Leaving I led you to the chair, there were others around... I think, never saw never heard. Pulled the chair out then eased it underneath you laying my palm upon your navel en passant feeling the smoothness, firmness, the screaming muscle underneath the cloth, skin, flesh... I squeezed your shoulders kissed your head pulled away to go when your fingers closed against mine, refusing, hurting me with so much innocence and might. I looked at their white slenderness, thin sprouts with a life of their own, with a wish... “Be careful,” you wanted me to promise. I did not promise. I left.

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The Moment I left my window open probably. Didn’t know until I heard the buzz... or hum... or what was it and my smashing hand froze mid way into the strike when I heard it again... the voice... hi. I crawled to the night lamp suddenly frightened... click... you were not a butterfly. Not a moth, centipede, mosquito, gnat, bat, elephant, not even a woman, or a story, or a fairy crossing a bridge, what were you? What are you? Hi... you buzzed or hummed or barked or sang or whatever, inspecting the white strain inside my chest’s curls and the musty granite inside my frozen muscle and the screaming flame beyond iris and nerve and straight into the brain, testing my ageless rage and bottomless velvet before entrusting me with the nest clinging to the tip of my nose. For days no end I walked around cross eyed, carefully where I stepped and where I stuck my nose watching you brush your wings and cleanse your body and making love and winking impudently, loving. From time to time you let me caress your smoothness, with one finger, then shyly you fluttered away to hide beneath a cabbage leaf until the blush would fade away. We weren’t of the same species, we fell in love disregarding the gap and the fact that one day my nose would probably fall off and you would need another nest for your heart, mainly for your heart. But until then you bit chomps off my nose, chewing delightedly, and from time to time wandered inside my clothes and while I held my breath afraid to crush you you would bit off other pieces of flesh looking for your species’ delicacies and pleasure. It was worth the pain hearing, so few times, the squeals of puppy insanity once you would find a spot of ethereal delight and linger there for hours. I learned to breathe through my skin not willing to lose the moment.

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The Reality Of Dream She was exhausted. Mentally, physically, when was it that her head fell with a thump on the desk a pile of papers cushioning the fall, the one finger asleep on the key marked L filling the screen with flying one letter lines and beep beep beeps, her other hand’s fingers cupping one breast guided by that ghost peeking through the glorious haze of a restless dream asking for her heartbeat, her breath, her begging nipple for his begging hand?... It was way past midnight. The beggars met, unleashing the storm and the amok run and the sirens’ song the ghost seeping into her fingers clutching at stretching cotton and tearing lace and pale flesh looking innocently at the world through a torn seam, the flowing L’s conquering page after page continuously yelling their beep beep beep war cry careless of electronic mayhem and of sweetness of smile dawning between lips and melting into dripping sugar molesting the pile of papers into irrecoverable mush... She shivered awake. Feeling his lips hastily departing back into dreamland’s impenetrable hideouts and hating that unavoidable forgetfulness cruelly dulling the momentary memory of beauty. Her almost finished report was shot to hell. She looked at the L’s filled screen, caring none at earlier-on wasted time of filling tables, and painting goals, and summing up columns, added ove at the blinking cursor’s position after the last L and slid under the covers refusing brutal logic’s demand to brush teeth, remove shoes, shower, wear pajamas... it would have meant removing his hand cupping her breast and his mouth breathing into hers and those tattered remains of garment, the only witnesses to the reality of dream.

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Fountain You opened your palms slowly not reluctant but rather playful... and the marbles started rolling out blinding in their intensity of immaculate burning light, hundreds, thousands, an endless stream burying your ankles, sticking to your knees, opening wings and fluttering above you only to close wing and pour down round your head down your neck, shoulders, between your breasts... oh, my envy burning... down your belly and thighs back to your ankles then opening wings again... crimson this time, and yellow next time, and blue next, and green, and... I leaned back on the bench watching the fountain of human light smiling in my knowledge of your heart from time to time stealing a few marbles for my dreams to come. So rich in your beauty, you wouldn’t mind gracing me with a few of those marvelous fireflies asleep inside your dresses drunken on the flavor of your skin and the warmth of your flesh, I wish to hear their story, feel their sting and for moments few barter my meaningless humanity for the sake of tasting the drunken death of touching you.

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Escape Your breast escaping the prison, the white one of cotton or the red one of satin or the black one of lace and proud of its dare calling upon my mouth to pour songs down its flute and lick nectar off its flower and kiss linden flavors inside the downy softness of its pillow. I cover it, afraid of imminent death invading my body together with the scream of life once my song done and my drinking done and my loving done and ensuing emptiness filling my body with the misery of missing fire. You uncover it once more, you uncover both of them once more, and as the steel in your fingers pulls my face inside the secret garden I feel the life steering inside your belly touching me and holding my finger and telling me a story of happiness soon to be born and soon to paint your lips smiles.

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Flake the first, past summer’s boiling red and radiant blue and green and purple, past autumn’s boring brown and brown and brown and yellow, the first, the herald, a stain of white purity flake innocent messenger runaway from hordes amassing their strength beyond impenetrable clouds a child of crystalline immensity finding the child of flesh humanity, you, to offer the adventure of children at play and hearts on the soar and falling in love... you fell on your back, tired, panting after chasing each other down valleys and up hills and across torn landscapes eyes closed above a smiling mouth, palms open, knowing... afraid. it landed softly inside your palm’s cradle, sighing its one ephemeral cry of love of warmth of death as its delicate fibers steamed and its filigree shrunk and its heart melted, a round blob of water rolling down and soaking into the frozen ground, invading hordes conquering your kingdom. you cried not for love lost, for love found.

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Sense Less Sightless, Tasteless, Never to smell your sweat, your skin after shower, your wine after making love for hours and days and lingering minutes, Never to hear your moan before and your sigh after, Never to touch the downwards of your neck and the around of your waist and the inside of your soft, discarded shyness. Sightless to seeing you hiding inside thin cotton against the blaze of sun outlining your form sharply on my retinae with a loving hand guided by an adoring god, Tasteless to the insides of your lips.

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The Tale Of Pale Butterfly This tale of a shy And pale butterfly, When blanketing night Embraces the light And silence pervades Through bickering glades, It opens a wing To dance and to sing And sweetness of summer the winter invades With flakes turning snowbells in shimmers of spring. Through morning’s first light Still warring the night And shivering glades An echo pervades, The butterfly lies With wondering eyes A heartbeat impaled on an icicle fades And snowbells - an ocean, are born while it dies. The death of a shy And pale butterfly.

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Rendez Vous i set the glass on the table so that it will reflect the moon straight into your eyes, i paid a teenage band to dress as mariachi to pass by just by coincidence and serenade you just by coincidence, i let a pearl attached to a metal ring sink inside the cake to be offered as dessert. i waited until you did not come. the moon fell beneath the hills the mariachi snored away the night waiting for the coincidence and the pearl melted in cake acid, sharp nacre shards scratching their way down my throat. i stepped into the cake crumbs past the fake mariachi and followed the cockroaches trailing the moon.

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Thirty Two Thirty two kilometers to your mouth, I wondered at its shape its feel its taste. I waited in the car, I drank, ate something tasteless, answered a few phone calls each ring turning me into a knotted mess... maybe... no. I regarded the watch. Too late. Thirty two kilometers could have been thirty two thousand. I still wonder at its shape, its feel, its taste.

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Toesland finally a regard inside your intimacy your head half missing your legs drawn up on the sofa your belly overflowing with life and then... oh... your toes. I counted several times just to make sure I missed nothing, left to right then right to left then middle to both sides, no doubt all ten of them, small, pert, smart, enticing, luring like the most erotic piece of fantasy which ever crossed my mind... well, maybe one degree lower than the other fantasy invading me - the one of your belly, huge, stretching away in front of you and under my eyes the skin taut and sensitive pink and white and smooth and a little foot pushing out... I wanted to count its toes too but I never got to see it, it stayed fantasy, will always stay. I tested the image maybe they could disclose some additional information I tried to zoom in, to rotate, to crop trying to identify the small circles and whirls of toeprints to recognize them once when you will dance on a glass table top or on snow or on my naked belly... such disappointment no toeprints, no warmth, just pixels. I printed the image, black and white, so what, cut away your toes and placed them in my wallet. One day, I will want to make sure that this is really you and your beauty.

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Angel Dust tiny, like a grain of sand, tinier, chosen by nature’s caprices to win the lottery of the sun to sprout opening tiny palms, tiny fingers tiny toes, toenails... a delicate flower bursting into the light from mama Madonna’s womb to open petals and put order into the chaos of a mad world with that most marvelous of first screams. mama Madonna smiles the excruciating pain so wonderful when you are being torn out of her insides to lie upon her chest your hungry scream conquering your disapproving scream your silence finally taking over when you find that swollen nipple feeding you nectar and warmth and love, oh, so much love unending. mirror, mirror upon the wall who is the fairest fair of all? asked mama Madonna the steamy mirror in the bathroom and the glass burst into a shower of sparks glimmering glittering glinting sticking to the liquid salt rolling down her cheeks watching your tiny fists open in welcome your tiny lips curving in smile as the sparks turn stars and sink inside you for once upon a time... so and so years from now to turn your passage in life a shower of light. night. beautiful mama Madonna tiptoes naked, bare-footed on the cold tiles shivers running up her spine as she approaches the soft alcove where even more beautiful you slumbers, thankful for the light adhering to your palms and face and refusing to leave so much innocence, the halo surrounding you reflecting in her tearful eyes. mama Madonna picks a glass jar and gently sweeps your skin several times collecting the light and dropping it in the jar watching it sink slowly to the bottom, layer after layer after layer. she knows, on communion day what her present to you will be – a glass jar, filled with angel dust.

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Between Dimensions you opened a door, you passed your hand in a downward motion and the door opened for me to come in before you sealed it back locking us in our own dimension I, and you, and a million flowers. and she, clutching at your shirt. you are allowed to do it, you told me waiting for my hands to stop shivering before they started opening the buttons of your shirt first the top one, then the one underneath, a few more, just sufficient. I had to wait some more, the shiver once more uncontrollable, then I slowly pulled out your left breast from its cotton home and let it hang down watching you guide her mouth to the nipple and then her gurgling smile telling it all. she was sated, asleep, I gently guided your breast back home, not before kissing it, then closed your buttons bottom to top then kissed your lips top and bottom waiting for your hand to move once more... wait... I suddenly bolted away returning with a huge bouquet of wild flowers and wheat spikes and thistles and weeds and laid it at your feet... now, I said. you passed your hand downwards again opening the secret door for me to leave your dimension and return nowhere allowing me to keep one flower, the one you just touched to your lips.

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Perfection she grips, grabs, gropes for the softness of your flesh and its calming warmth with the tenacity of grapples and the softness of grace lulling you to sleep with the song of toothless gums locking around your nipple and heart. tiny fingernails mark tiny smileys and tiny crescents and tiny blushing cuts upon your skin and you smile between the tiny punctures of pain aware of the beauty of it all. I click my wordy camera at the image adorning my imagination and print it here on the cardboard of the screen closing the window as fast as I opened it afraid to wake up your joined perfection.

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Closure the was that will not be the will that will never be was the count down way beyond the zero and deep into negatives the bigger the smaller and perfumes of life dissipate and the desert around me flowers with salt crystals breaking the sun to crumbs of frost I am closing the shirt the letter the door the pen

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Watcher I tiptoed into your life hardly feeling the tiles, hardly breathing your skin, invisible, not disturbing, not touching, I watched you yawning before blinking closed the gates to your soul, I watched you stretching in your sleep looking for the comfort of arms, I watched you showering as I glided with the tiny drops upon your body, inside your body, down to your toes and between them to the sewage, I tiptoed out of your life my chest one way, my head the other, acrobatics of life. From time to time I dare close my eyes and watch you... once more.

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