Mozart in Autumn

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Mozart in November

If our stars align will our hips align
Our hips align with nature and delight?
For all facts of contact express a holistic truth
That entwined we are part of the same thing

We were derived from acts of love
And to that same source return
When we kiss, it’s an act of unity
Of tongues that once spoke so quickly

Now touch only to charm the morning
But fresh flesh, what of our soul’s dominion
Does our lust dictate a biological predominance?
If our stars align, why would our thighs?

Since we talk in bed about the rain
If you got on top of me would we
Rain together in the bliss of primitive selves
And find pleasure in the founts of our cells.

Permeating Early Revisionary Exploration 

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Permeating Early Revisionary Exploration

To enter these bonds, is to be free
To be indebted to a woman’s body
To feel her flesh and spirit bathe thee
Before, behind, between, above and below

The sweat and fragrance of serendipity
Where my hands grow cold in this savage dark
And precious stones glow like nipple-thirst
Hard and soft with full shared nakedness

As souls unbodied with free license
To taste whole joys like uncloth’d wine
That a fool’s eyes can ligteth to the Gem
Of a woman in heaven’s full recline

And Earth’s sultry tastes born of wet glee
There is no penance due to innocence
We’ve waited years to together likt his
The smiling emergence of merrily toyed

We become each other tumbling
Like a garble of lovely minutes
Pull together like crushed fruit on skin
Her flesh came at the chute of our unity

In an uncovered bud of flower’s glowing
Beautiful, wide-spread, opened like a pineapple.

An etude in misplaced desire

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To His Mistress the World Going to Bed

I have no license to touch
Your soul, if a soul had qualities to touch
No permission to enter your sanctuary
No heaven’s zone of glittery
I have no intimacy of the variety
That which my state could renew

No pass into the beauteous state
Of harmonious chime of feeling
I have no novelty in this condition
Of incessant repetition
Only hopes and sensations private
Like an imprisoned youth in an older body

It’s hollow here, beneath this flesh
This kingdom called my life, the sameness from
I have no insight into the women
Whom I admire, I used to have female friends
For they go on, like a lifetime of having children
Becoming full with roles

But for the men, they are wild in another way
Hair in their destiny, alone in their temple
Of peculiar tastes and defied responsibility
I have no license to touch these lives
Who are so full with duty, so unlike my own
We cannot truly coexist, only perhaps

Exchange a passing smile on our way
Until I labour, I in labour lie
A foe of women, a foe in sight
And I only have the power to observe
And it’s a hollow temple
Not to be able to touch the world more.

How Spring is Ruined in the City 

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How Spring is Ruined in the City

I find I am more vulnerable than ever
Even if I am more insensitive than before
I come naked into the world ready
We are all naked essentially bare

To the new day, like a body of a soul-within
I am sheltered and I avoid too
Much stimulation, but this leaves me
Essentially impressionable, a metamorphosis

For the right person, essentially mutable
The lips of my soul hoping the world
Would kiss me, though it happens
So so rarely, I am nearly anonymous

I am so introverted I feel mute or
My body attempts identification with autism
I am so attentive to the beauty of the world
And yet so unable, I’m in awe of the failure

Of my inability to access it, to communicate
With these beings all around me, it is normal
To feel this way, I am a transparency of a clumsy spring
That knows summer will leave me empty

The fragrance of newness hopes for new friends
Or a distinct seduction of the spring itself
Wishing flowers would point to my direction
And a promise of a smile might bathe me

In its glow, I feel left out of these celebrations
I don’t have children, I don’t have the touch
Of novelty, or, stuttering pearls that sensualize existence
I am vulnerable and numb from too little contact

Clumsy in the brightness of my own being
Spring is not regulated and she isn’t told
How much I wish to kiss the Spring that comes and goes
Like youth or a woman we cannot have
It’s slender and has no need for reciprocity.