Thinking of you
Commanding bliss
Making blood, gold spews of tears
Touching spans with my eyes, touching ways with my heart
Have me, have thee
If ever mongst this constancy
See me love if you value me
Come close but stay far like the ether we may gaze but never meet with feeble palms
Thinking of you,
Let me

All I care is for this sudden smell if I dare to ever hold my breath...I cannot. To wallow from this state of means to come to me in dreams and amidst conscious strolls. Do I forbear or do I endure such a beautiful strain? This aroma, what bliss will have me ensconced by waters and corollary of celestial instance. Happy as I not alone so ever in this amazement of chance. The sun has touched me today in ways so true, caressed in spite of these garments that sheathe me. They will not take me alive...I only care for beauty. Care for wealth, for relevance, or power...care elsewhere for such rottenness of the soul is contagious. ‘Contage’ me not, if you wish so not to see the wrath of a gentle man, of a gentleman. This smell will stay I will come to it by morrow. Smell on if this rave meets you, endure the pleasure of such scents as it’s zephyr may touch the walls of mortal nares. Smell on...beauty is by.

in the icy swirl
          of deep-inhale
            I reach down inside
                      to darkest
       heated flesh-fabric
removing the clothing
of my soul,
feeling the layers
                slowly  undone
                      the flay
                        of my own fleece
                          the peeling
                    of my own pelt
            penetrating
                through tissue,
                     a journey to the
                          deep heart of me,
                         cut in one clean move
                         and yet, like a miracle
                  there is
             no pain
                   just magnet-connect
                     beyond the cusp
                            of words
                              that curl from our
                                             tongues
                                      rising up in
                      latticed affirmations
                    a cleansing in frost
a constant, aquamarine renewal
and there is no past
no future
      just this prism
           of crystal liquid jewels
      flowing in
gentle,
         cellular music
             straight into the strands        
                    of our veins
and I miss you
like you have gone
on the long winter hunt
my longing splayed out
like an animal skin on
                    four poles
its tendons stretched
beyond measure
yet holding fast
with a roof over my head,
                    I acknowledge
             my restlessness
I am my own
       hunter-forager,
         both searching and found,
                     gathering up bits  
               of velocity
stroking the ribbons
of passion
stoking the fires of my
              heart and hearth
protecting what is us
like a lioness
for we are overflowing
with both strength
         and tenderness
              our own bones
ingredients of the wild soup              
of our feral union
of our constant rebirth
our very dna
          weaving itself
like heartstrings
               in the rush      
of
       time

My love’s front cannot ever dim in essence. To my fellow men whom may see a beauty within a realm of naked sights. It is not ever that a beautiful sight has become less in its vibrant and sacred ways, it is forever the eye that shifts in trueness for it now everly trite. Never falter by your beloved’s lovest parts, gape firmly at god, gape at your treasure for it matters not if deemed gold or copper. Beauty is beauty.

At I if ever mine highest self, forging pains unto the canvas of wonders...at I mine most calm’st chamber do we all but have one of our own
Trapped in what instance who ought to see me lose consciousness and witness the death of the sage
Or a mage mayhap caged in shackles
Graze me with love oh dear even if from light years away
Or so a still touch for me to swallow still waters.

Of all clear stages, an interdimensional touch, outness dream, the entanglement of like matter
Of all clear stages which shall touch the poet, which shall touch the concubine, the exotic dancer, the artist, the entrepreneur...
Of all sorts in the aughts the same is different so in other worlds, is the difference so in other hearts?

Come like so, turn thee tender to warmth and tears to vintage
Bare view to rare views
But evidently there lies one view, a point center’d in reason
Fearing more distant terrors, becoming more of the frightened
Today we may fear the snake, tomorrow the lord, next, foreverness
As part we are of courses in the obstacles of affinity
I see truly, the sun
Truly, my beloved
Truly, the matters of wound’d time
Truly, the ultra-touch
Truly, the hyperlove
Come like so I say, as thou art comely and manner’d
I too shall come like so to match thy beauty and elegance
I too shall come, truly...with warts and perfections