Body, remember not only how much you were loved,
not only the beds on which you lay,
but also those desires which for you
plainly glowed in the eyes,
and trembled in the voice -- and some
chance obstacle made them futile.
Now that all belongs to the past,
it is almost as if you had yielded
to those desires too -- remember,
how they glowed, in the eyes looking at you;
how they trembled in the voice, for you, remember, body.

Last night you were in my dreams
Gave passion with your screams
your body, a desired, wanted treasure
I took it hard, for my own pleasure
Lusting in a fever, loving so rough
You were begging but it wasn't enough
from the bed, down onto the hard floor
My need for you grew, I wanted more
Our desire, continued in the shower
As I used you in every way, every hour
But our wanting would not break
When alas, in a sweat, I did awake

I run my hand along the traces of him.
I feel the blood rush through my skin.

I grip my shoulder where your head once rested.
I tear at my soul just to feel connected.

I feel the rage I should have felt eleven months ago,
I feel the desire I ought to forgo.

You were the best of all the others,
Their traces remain, but they weren't even lovers.

And neither were we, almost but not quite,
But you were the closest I have been to the shame free light.

I want to be clean of the stain he left,
I want to be clean of the desire I regret.

But as I look at this mark that you left on me,
I am not so sure I want to be free.

She couldn't be a mortal, just simply born;
but truly a goddess, ignited, free from form.
-
The day the ground met with her delicate toes
was the night the stars aligned in symmetrical rows.
-
In dream, she dances and glides upon air.
Awake, she braids comets in the threads of her hair.
-
My greetings seem hollowed, I am drifting afloat.
The language of fondness is a lump in my throat.
-
Her outline is gleaming with a soft, vermilion luster.
Her eyes, subtle jasper, urges your core not to trust her.
-
Not a staza, nor an epic can contain flawless grace,
or the yearning I feel when we are sharing this space.

It is very rare
To live in the moment.

At any given time
We find ourselves
Thinking about the past
Or planning for the future.

To live in the moment
Is the most beautiful
Feeling;
Because you remember
Every sound,
Smell and touch,
And have memorised
Every crease on your lover's palm.

And for days,
Months
And even years,
You will live in that moment

Until time drains the colour
Of that memory,
Like a used cloth,
And you have to find
Another moment to live in.

your hand sleepy
and resting deeply
in mine,
the sound of your voice
pecking like a sparrow,
tickling my heart back to life;
beaming, vast, sunshiny
and unbroken.

I've tasted your play
Yet there were no cards
Dealt in my favour
Nor were you really
Spiritual. . .Only

The longing emerged
Freely. . .Japanese moving pictures
Narrative becomes redundant
When You. . .untangled the soft
Butterfly knot on my silk

Gown and start to pop
Me up. . .on a lovely desk
Destroying any last
Thought of resistance.

Burning peaches, pushing
Fire, we. . . The tangible.