Bend your knees
his sins run down your face
open that sweet mouth
the vulguarity of your innocence
repugnant in your mouth
the ever familiar taste.

laying there naked in a river of deceit,
spread eagle waiting,
for what makes your soul weak
eyes closed in denial
you can no longer look at what you've lost

  The closest you feel
skin on skin,
in those moments you lose the fear
that your losing him.

and you pray for those moments just before bed
when your under the covers
and on his chest rests your head,
for then a few hours when you become slave to sleep
you hold hands with an angel
who keeps you company in your dreams

my thoughts echo down upon silent wings
fluttering on the edge of utterance only briefly
set to disappear on the heat of expelled breath

they emerge fully formed on the daylight side of reality
far removed from their stone cold birth
and far from what i beheld when setting them loose
their meanings malformed into mystery
and they ellude me with swift confusion

the sounds uttered
transient upon the heavy air
swiftly seeks shelter in her mind
and in her eyes i see these ideas form
and grow like a forest of troubled thoughts
through which i can hope little for path or passage

the leaves drift downward
in a silent symphony of movement
as morning becomes substantial to my senses
its heavy air laden with rain
we spent the night in eachothers arms
very little spoken
waiting for daylight to reveal something
our eyes could not find in each other

the dawn hangs low on the horizon
shaded by the years
into the dark corners
where the shadows dance upon the leaves
the sounds reach me and through them i learn
through them change is possible

she is gone these years

We wrote our hearts in permalink
and etched the light into our eyes
and in the ink that never fades away
we lettered each and every day.
In peppered nights with parasol
where in the heat that spiced the hands and touched the soul
we founded dynasties
and finished mysteries
then slept like dogs among the charcoaled logs of past desire
but woke to another more intense and spent a little of the fire before the coming day.
and was it thus this way?
Did I really write all night
did she come to me all dressed in white with hunger on her lips
did I rip the pen away and leave the page unwritten and unread
were those words she said meant for me
and could she, could she not see excitement on this parchment where the ink was legible?
to be honest it was hard for me to tell
and in the telling it gets no easier for me to see.
The ink is in the permalink, the permanence and what substance that there could be
in this the mystery
in this the she, and she is this and this I see?
simply put
but strangely said
again we stammer off to bed in hesitance another permanence
but that is good
and that is too and both of us know what to do.
The pen is light upon her page
and the stage is set
we get another taste and tuck into the chapter one with other chapters more to come
and with the wetness of a passing storm
both her and I are born.