I’d like to take you in the trees,
in the treetop nest amid dripping leaves,
with ocean crash not far away,
and stars so bright they light my way
around your hills and folds
of warmcool skin and
wettest pools.

I breathe the dawning fog,
the fir, the salt, the rain, your heat,
and burrow back into your curves
till coffee wafts and nature calls.

When My Love Gets Drunk

When my love gets drunk,
her loosened tongue runs,
her giant heart swells
and overflows the rim;
the heart usually reserved
and sprinkled through mesh
now splashes and pours
and waters the air;
her literal-organ is primed and turned on,
jokes and metaphors filtered as real,
but her self-censor filter is lowered, turned down,
and her laughs and her love are on firehose strength;
and her random leaps are non-sequitur beauty,
and her turn-on-a-dime shifts of mood are an art,
and she’ll reminisce hard, stoke intensity’s fire,
and her true soul is laughter and love, revealed,
her soul is emotional soup and pure,
a crystalline light,
a blanket of chill swirled with warm.

So bring on the saké or red wine or rum,
and dance by the light of the moon, my dear;
so bring on the saké or red wine or rum,
and open your mouth once again, my love,
and open your heart once again.

Spring Break Revisitations

April 7, 2015

My sleep shirt
smells of your laundry soap
and thus of you.
I have memory of
creamy skin,
the softness swellings,
the firmness forms,
a thumb both firm and soft.
The doors of your open soul—
your eyes, your lips—
stand ajar,
lapping pools of
waters and light
judder in the dark,
and in I dive,
and you dive, too,
and it should be impossible
to do, but we do.
The tongue—a plunge,
a swipe, a suck,
a brief foray,
a dart, a dash,
a linger…
oh, my happy luck!
That tongue!
The unicorn’s absence
was deeply (un)felt.
The time was no less well-spent.

The Yearn, the Yen

My skin wants you,
my breasts hunt you,
in the dark of dreams,
in the dawn amid the thin green trees.

Your tongue haunts me–
slowwww, slowwww,
tiny, smooth, and charged–
your hands and mouth decant me,
like a bottle of red to be sipped.

Even wine conducts a current.
I feel the buzz and burn,
even this far away.

A Prepositional Love

August 22, 2014

A Prepositional Love

My tongue loves to be
Aboard you
About you
Above you
Across you
Moving after you
Against you
Along you
Among your parts
Around you
And at you.

My body loves you before
Loves you behind
Loves you below
Loves you beneath
Loves you beside
Loves your between
Loves you beyond
Loves you but nothing
Loves you by and by and by.

My hands love you down
Love you during (mmm)
Love you except nothing
Love you for whatever you want
Love you from all angles
Love you in
Love you into a frenzy, a calm
Love you like crazy
Love you near to complete
Love you, you of bay and green and sea
Love you off (till you get off)
Love you on back, on belly, on knees,
and on and on,
Love you onto another plane
Love you out of pure wonder
and outside of myself
Love you over (and over) (and over again)
Love you past all reason.

I love you since I knew
through thick, through thin
Under the water
And underneath the moon
Until death
Up into the stars
Upon the green hard earth.

I love you with
I love you within
I love you without.

I want to be with
I wish to be within
Don’t keep me without.

Snapshots of an Evening

August 11, 2014

Snapshots of an Evening

The tap-tapping pound of
your fingers on plastic keys,
the sound of your thoughts
being laid, played, essayed
on the screen and
straight into hearts.

The canine snores
on the white-sheeted bed,
body propped against
the pillows, long.
She will worry at your absence,
as I always do.

The blue-white glow in your eyes,
the set of your mouth determined
as you live the call
and revel in the fun.

You pull my shoulders downward,
hard and deep,
the sheet too little and too much;
I am almost there.

Bathwater, breath, sweat,
the longing long,
the visit short
…much too short.