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Oct 2014
The blessed bright being of dawn
with all its fevers yeasting
into the fermentation of day.
The light rising beyond the window
speaks to me of intimacy and wonder

So I dance my words along your flesh
as feeble fingers trembling at your skin?

So I anticipate your anatomy
beneath these lisping lips
and gather the taste of you
into my adventurous mouth?

So I tangle my tongue
with tease and tensing lips
tingling in all the levered arches of your body?

Look how the words tumble wrinkles in the screen
as sure as sheets
beneath the hunch and shy of shoulders
echoing the lap and splash of waters
kissing at the shore.
Safe in the sound
the sweet water salt of your harbour
to taste and savour the blessings of ecstasy.

I conjure these words to wake you
like the early morning sky aching to be alive;
to run a ribbon flush of goose flesh
like rivers in your limbs

Can you feel all the world
like the rioting race of rushing ******;
feel the mad blistering hammers of the sun
with the same pure moment
of daylight kissing the earth?
Chris Weallans
Written by
Chris Weallans  London
(London)   
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