Eyes soft as silk, mirror moon-fire along the silver cusp of my soul,
Enchantment wanders the opalescence of this dream,
Heartbeat to heartbeat it pulses, drifting down soft, as stolen breath
Along the throat in this trembling garden of body....





Whispers of hunger, penetrate soft folds of midnight’s caress upon
Velvet’s pout, a taste of honeyed tease, searing spoon-fed ecstasy,
Brushed new, upon warm whispers,
In the wet of US....




A moist fragrance of sighs, unleashed, capturing blossoms swelling, under moon-spill,
Urgent fingertips dance delicately across shadowed yearn;
Undressed, beguiled, stirred sweet, behind naked eyes,
Where lavender ache beckons....




Satin pleasures unbutton heaven in the breath of swollen whispers, and
The breeze of destiny lays tangled in sheets, touching, teasing
The shores of prismatic submission;
Spooning wet, the wild of embers scorching need, prompting the meld of *****, as
Seduction fuses and passion licks unholy wet, cocooned in silk spill...





His melting shadow arches, quivers the canopy of my offering,
Roller-coasted beneath his lip-ride, where fire bleeds my skin, and I am lathed upon the parched desert of his tongue;
Where crimson visions seep, thrusting, deep the lilac of petals, and
Hungry hands trace the rhythm of trembles,beyond the swallowed screams....





Darkened eyes watch, as I burn the ****** slipped from his tongue;
My trembling, hips glisten, trailing whispers, slowly swallowing hidden breath,
Drowning him in an oasis of silken desire, where dewdrops of my rain trickle from the corners of his smile,
Orchid nectar sliding between two tongues, saturated, tasted beyond the press of lips...................

The moon will always be ours within whisper's truth
Beneath curve and whimper's sigh
Where passions come alive......





The flutter of lips whisper against the flame
Searing my naked soul;
For I
Am tangled in rapture,
Where the flesh of your tongue
Lingers
Filling me deep in December....


Your lips teach me now,
Drowning me in sweet,
Honeysuckle traces,
Wet soliloquies
Along the thighs of our endless night...



My need;
Blends sweetly into
Garlands of rose scented kisses,
My breath burning your pulse
Chanting it's rhythmic mantra of desire
With the elixir of my devotion...


My voice grows hoarse with moan,
Erratic, panting, my flower pink,
Oblivious to this milky harvest of time;
How I adore you,
Seductively caressing me;
Such gentle ecstasy...



Bare fingertips
Scribe stuttered vowels
Along the curve of hip
And on the tip of ******* blossoming...
To quiet the fiery core of this, my desert,
Temple...


This blaze of Kundalini rising
Ink to flesh
Closes around the benediction of rain,
Edged in the deep
Of this, our Eden................

In the sordid caste
of flowers, the wild
rise on their stems
for a name,

and rupture into light
through the copse of partridge berry
distances tumble over the wet colours,

like mauve tongues
along the thighs of an eventual sunrise,
that comes moaning free
of the unforgiving dark,
in the wet jazz soliloquies of light

and suddenly, through the lips
of Septembers lovely grind,
to bind the Summers cunning wounds,
your hands reach far into the blue hordes
of wildflower,

and redolent fevers, kindled
by some hummingbirds blurred
and exquisite agitation, you
are the body of my confession

and South
marks the same
unfathomable distance home,
over the prairie
that tonight grants calm,
in the balm of C minor,

a mute, sibilant liquid dream of rain
soothes, my voice grows hoarse
and stills, though from the hush of willows,
rasps the vast reservoir of wind,

as the jay, a blue throb in the holly, casts
my hue in lush cascades of desperate, abandoned braids

lift the fevers muslin depths
and these unaccompanied words, sing
a sonata
proverbs in petty sounds
spill from a cracked jaw
and a parched throat,
in the Sabbath of the heart

heaven never thought to map
this distance and its jubilee
over wildflowers, I bear
your name to stay the mauve hour

of devout crickets,
crouched in the rain,
dying in the thick falsetto of mist
and the sordid hum of birds, dim
in their hollow cote,

and sudden blue, sudden blue,
how I adore you....

So fine,
the slender votive silence
of palms, open
to the torn banners of rain,
so tender,
such surrender
in the gesture of hands...

You pour so much
of your red earth,
to soothe and loosen
the tongue from its leather tomb
and adorn me
with a lighter burden,
too much mine, at one
with the dark, lavish earth
in all its sorrow, spun
of the sleek commotion of silk
and vanilla linens... I leaned
into the ******* of my wings,
honed from those muscular
fairy-tale dreams...

My mouth,
learned solely on a valentine's
shiny white kiss of hemlock,
humming into the cells
of the spellbound body, quelled
by vigilance, your lips
teach me now, how to go softly
over the red earth of dahlias,
in all their everlastings, your hands
deep in the soil, reap...

The resonating grail of memory,
kept in its rich loam
and coals spread over
my mouth of red, red clay,
so swells its golden hue
of rose and rhododendron,
too much mine, rising
its fevers in the fawn brown
of eyes, closed ...

Over this long,
shuddering quiet,
you come
in all your calico
to calm
the votive silence
of palms, cupped
in the earth of your hands,
so much mine....

Taste me with all of your senses
Inhale my essence......breathe me in deep.....






Darkness pressed against hunger..

Sliding my tongue, I drew it in like a feast
Savouring the taste as it passed my lips...



Shadows cast silken threads
Screaming desire!
Spinning silken webs around my body,
Searing my skin, as hot breath spilled itself
Against my salted flesh...


Moisture and heat fused,
Savage, pulsating, lingering, where wicked hovered
Sleek, against my heart’s beat...



Black satin shivered beneath wildfire hips;
Slow dancing a sweetened heat,
Writhing beneath the shimmer-gleam;
As I lay for him, lathed by the parched desert of his
Relentless tongue...wearing me wet....


I moaned across his taut flesh,
Strewn beneath the sliding wander of skin thrusts,
Drowning in a plum-dark eclipse of heat!
Where tenderness lay opened for him...



Teasing breaths rushed kisses between thighs
Quivering,
Wanting to break free, the restraints,
Stretching my body beneath his tasting..


I felt the essence beating ****** tempo's,
Passion succumbing to insatiable need;
And I gave him my body's silk-white,
Trembling under the furtive delirium of our fever...


The fierce moon eclipsed
A serum to slide my quickened breath;
And his eyes watched, deep in dark, unchanging depths,
As I lay naked in his arms....................

On a slow train
out of the Savannah’s sudden exile,
the sunlight swallows me,
a calligraphy of days, hours, minuets, now
inscribed on my limbs,
syntax gives over to a dry, dry sound,
and parched, the aftertaste of sloe gin
inhabits my ribs, the lay of bones,
a labyrinth of absence,
and this velvet ache
at my wrists, a pure burning,

burning the memory red,

words swell and crumble with a kiss,
what absence, Soul of Winter,
what absence is this, spreading
over roadmaps, soliloquies, nights
stretch into mornings, always mornings,
as my fingertips pull daylight from an orange
in dream alphabets that soon dwindle
to vowels, the word, harbour, bends
the old alder beyond what it can bear,

so many ways, you say, to live like a prisoner,

at home, the rooms
are all windswept, reckless
chairs overturned , abandoned
in this, the evening’s parable,
love is no more
than a syllable in a bottle
of shattered blue glass,

a poem written on the underside of a child’s teacup,

their jump ropes curl like adders
at our feet, the thread
from where I dangle
in doorways and twilight,
as I bide time, perilous
over train tracks, your fingers
trace tally marks along my vertebrae,
the hollows darkening in a pathos
of blue rheumatism,
and in the carnivorous tremor
of my body breaking
like the spine of a book,
the paper gone pink at the edges,
like azaleas and bruises,

erosion, after all is the altar of the body,

and there are scars beneath my temple,
and this ache, still, in my wrists,
unbearable when it rains,
ghosts inhabit my lungs,
wrung from the silence of shut windows,
eternal clotheslines and linen
span for miles across the Savannah,
and the early frost is at last,
calling me home....

Dream for me
a Savannah,
a sestina in reds
at Pandora’s threshold,
clothed in bludgeons of light
and these tears are nothing
but the nightingale’s burden,

the words laden and livid as storm
across the mauve wasteland
unfolds, the sky in its deceit,
promises rain, delivers nothing,
in this room the light will ruin me,
the squall of glass slippers overhead,

on my knees, now
the abstraction of the body, opaque
I write in the limber whisper
of fingertips, deep villanelles
about love, restless love
on the skin of your back,

histories annotated
by gestures of supplication,
I drag fingernails across a fairytale
and out falls a wide-eyed harem,
April-blue veils trail their blood, narrowing
the flagrant staccato echo in my sternum,

A palm reader warns of conduits
and spells, the darkness
that puddles like lake water
in my mind, moths of Summer
a fragrant blue,
restless blue

notes like scorpions
scurry beneath the blankets,
strands of hair, stained sheets
this vacancy glows through the shears
I forget, how early, and still
the night falls here,

as how early it fails.....