.
Wet welling from earth . . .
Deep valleys, hills, sweating *******
. . . I plung into her.
We are lost at sea . . .
In moonless night our soft cries,
Curled waves drowning us.
Above her in bed . . .
Little breaths lifting our bodies,
Eyes, fingers, dreaming.
Her green eyes are set,
Jewels from sargasso seas,
My ghost ship is wrecked.
Her long hair tangles . . .
No struggle in rising— then,
. . . We are rapt in bed.
Her eyes blinding me,
Milky way of her body,
. . . There is a heaven.
In forest we taste . . .
Each other in evergreens,
Hot dews on the moss.
Blissful time kissing . . .
My bare thighs sink into hers,
. . . Running sands so quick.
As olive or grape . . .
So shed, paired souls are threshed,
. . . Out of their bodies.
Hummingbirds share truths . . .
Nature sounds with all sweetness,
. . . Bee in the flower.
Always in a field . . .
Wild flowers— a bunch to pick,
. . . Herself a bouquet.
In the park we walk . . .
Flocks of white birds taking flight,
. . . Two hearts light as air.
We kissed under moon . . .
Pox of stars grew flowering,
. . . Nightshade of her lips.
She took me to bed . . .
Skinned in bliss— was reborn, lost,
. . . In her satin folds.
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 2:27 AM UTC
.
Wet welling from earth . . .
Deep valleys, hills, sweating *******
. . . I plung into her.
We are lost at sea . . .
In moonless night our soft cries,
Curled waves drowning us.
Above her in bed . . .
Little breaths lifting our bodies,
Eyes, fingers, dreaming.
Her green eyes are set,
Jewels from sargasso seas,
My ghost ship is wrecked.
Her long hair tangles . . .
No struggle in rising— then,
. . . We are rapt in bed.
Her eyes blinding me,
Milky way of her body,
. . . There is a heaven.
In forest we taste . . .
Each other in evergreens,
Hot dews on the moss.
Blissful time kissing . . .
My bare thighs sink into hers,
. . . Running sands so quick.
As olive or grape . . .
So shed, paired souls are threshed,
. . . Out of their bodies.
Hummingbirds share truths . . .
Nature sounds with all sweetness,
. . . Bee in the flower.
Always in a field . . .
Wild flowers— a bunch to pick,
. . . Herself a bouquet.
In the park we walk . . .
Flocks of white birds taking flight,
. . . Two hearts light as air.
We kissed under moon . . .
Pox of stars grew flowering,
. . . Nightshade of her lips.
She took me to bed . . .
Skinned in bliss— was reborn, lost,
. . . In her satin folds.
