Friday, September 28, 2012
Wednesday, September 05, 2012
(an allegro of yearning)
… I want to detassel your body from the petite husk of your attire using only the grasp of my teeth and hint of my tongue, slough your remnants from the hanger of your limbs one by one, watch as your clothes tumble and form a puddle of fabric below the sheet music sheets stalks of your shin, kiss the part of yer neck where you’ve never been kissed before, lick the petals of your eyes as if welcoming the childhood of spring, leave Christmas morning footprints on the winter of your forehead. I want to lose my palms in the autumnal stream of your hair, and tug it back as if trying to reel a stage curtain north into the operatic production that is your smile. Suck on the cherry ring pop flavor of your lips, pinch at you, bite at you, rape and pluck invisible holiday ornaments off the evergreen limbs at the end o time. I want to spend a still-life snippet of eternity looking at you naked before I christen my lips around the globe of your forehead, coddle the first trimester curve of your earlobe with the locomotive breath, the exhaust from the engine of my body. I want cup the topography of your breast around the calloused dactyls of my fingers. I want to suck at the pinch of your bosom as if trying to tap the keg of the harvest moon.
I want to slurp at the placid piano key ivory of your fingertips. I want you to feel the stiff exclamatory
mark of flesh rising as if in applause at the sight of your body.
I want the enjoined tips hands to form an overlapping starfish I want you to lead me into that place where y our body is yours, that moist cove of creativity, the color of your name. I want the Gravity of our bodies to fall into each other like apocalyptic meteor slamming against the crust of your flesh, neck tilting back nodding in prayer as if trying to blossom and push through the linear slant of time. I want to enter your body the same way the blink of my sight enters the confetti syllables of your first name. Kick over the indentation of the C into the aerie mattress of eternity, watch as your limbs , manacled and pinned by my wrist as the lower-case third vowel first personal-pronoun digs its fleshy scepter into spurs into the boomerang of a scrambled ‘r’—I want to blow easter bubbles into the southern hemisphere of your body of a scrambled eee-are-eye. Just to be. I want to fuck you with you on top of me, a steeple of one solitary flesh. I want to bite into parts of your body that reminds you of incest. I want to feel like you are trying to saddle and tame a feral long-haired uncaged entity who just can’t refrain from biting into you with the rip of his skyline of his torso. I want to fuck the treble cleff time signature of your body as if I am reading classical music, get lost in the dynamics of your lips, the wild elevating allegro of yer limbs, the temp of your breath. I want to release myself in a moonbeam rail of ecstasy between the bridge of your loins, I want to feel the slight tide of your body brush against the coast of my torso in lapsing tempo like a toddler entering the ocean for the first time, feeling the wetness and the salt of the planet lost in the feeling of a wished for flood. I want to watch the bouquet of your Fingertips come like a boutonniere of fireworks pinned against the navy blue dusk of a mid summer sky. And afterwards I want the pebbles of our accumulated sweat to be a scent that has never been sniffed at before, kiss the perfume of your body with the quill of my lips and just spend a lifetime quietly and hushly looking at you with your eyes closed, lost in my own reflection mirrored in the gloss of post-coital your forehead and somehow tell you quietly with my eyes oh lover, I am yours……..