The You of a Secret Kiss, Like Stolen Bread

45

Someone said they had a word
For music of feeling, for longing
Sparse as the stripped light of youth

You are my bamboo grove
On a late afternoon, where I feel nothing
You are as a mouth struck opal

A divine surrender to infinity
Someone said they had a word
For longing, pure and simple

From the gulfs of crazy waves in rain
There is such stillness and movement
In my being, when I think of you

I believe your moist hands are
Like some indefinable South, some symbolic
Fragrance I cannot quite remember

Tangerine moisture and liquorish lush flavor
Some sensual spirituality for which
Invades my obscurity, like life to the artist

Like femininity to the protesting solitude
Of a monk, scholar, orator of surrealism
Someone said they had a word

For the breathless state of strange desire
Before sweetness, before thorns, before union.

3 thoughts on “The You of a Secret Kiss, Like Stolen Bread

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