Of all the body's
in and outie places
the daffiest part
has got to be
the umbilicus,
how sillycus
to have the mother straw
embedded so very far
from the face's ******* lippicus.

Time and distance has conspired
to make our love brave concertina wire,
while this may be an over statement of our case,
nonetheless, you and I have the wounds to prove it.

To be naked in Eden,
you and I both kneeling before that one apple
with all the creatures of the wild our witness,
I would call upon god for reason
that it is but natural law and right
to devour that which separate the two of us.

Should passion be such
that it drains the sea
then I will find inland lakes
to give to thee.

Should devotion be such
that it exceeds times day
then I will find the extra hour
to give to thee

Should poetry be such
that you need to breathe
then I will lute 'n lyre
and sing to thee.

This spin 'n gyre
has mixed us,
your words and mine,
my morning thoughts of you
and your night thoughts of me.
This poetry centrifuge thing
must surely stop,
or the two of us
will be forever dizzy.

Would you favor me?
Lounge in the chaise by the window
that tapers light inward,
so when you lie back,
without your clothing,
your face, shoulders, arms, nippled *******, belly, and *****
are bathed in natural and trailing light
defining your exquisite form
while shadowing your manifold into eternal mystery.

Is it wanton?
That my eye should drift
upon thy cleavage
while we speak
in Notes of Cliff,
when I pull you down
upon my broad bed
where we studiously study rapture
in the very hour before our test.