I am the art you begin to create
only after a few decades of trial an error.

The dichotomy of a petal light landing of my lips
on sleeping cheeks or foreheads
then the fury of inarticulate madness
they can spit still confuses me.

I love many things
that I fear I don't
save enough time for.

This is living.

It is a heavy and brimming
cornucopia of blooms,
books, berries,
bills to be paid,

my arms are shaking
and I'm not ready
to put it down.

Dig down deep
push the earth over your corpses of yesterday

collect only the memories you treasure
plucked from their fingers to carry with you
into a new dawn

dance and howl
amidst the sweat and grime
of your next beginning

she stretches out before me
a feast of art and possibility
both wicked and wanting
elegant and evocative

I want to kiss her full on the mouth
my tongue eager for her exquisite
all of me aches to explore
leave nothing uncharted

she rewards my curiosity
begs me to roam
there is no denying
the knowing in my bones
it echoes from my soul
with her

I am home

the day stretches out before me

sultry

a newly awakened lover
all welcoming limbs
warm and supple

I lay buried under winter's
bleak mountain of morose
desire frozen solid in my chest
cursing the lack of mischief
to shatter this gray
to throw gaiety like a prism

memories of fevered breathlessness
falling like snowflakes on my tongue
and disappearing again

one by one

your mouth is overflowing with my
favorite kind of filth
and poetry
and possibility

I feel a moment
of pause
of peace

amidst the chaos

I kiss the want from your lips
I hold you for a moment
Proof we still exist
until the world spins aways
from us again

I want to pull my ******* down
place my pink flesh
on your cold and tired pew of history

my desire
my rage
searing your self-serving traditions shut
and revealing the warmth of a new era

one where you are left behind
still incensed
still afraid
of anything shaped like a woman