His Reply Was to Move Closer

His Reply Was to Move Closer

She came at me, with experience
With Kama sutra pottery hands
Hands that could tame a deer
Her voice like liquid velvet

With minutes pulled into loving hours
She emerged, made me emerge
Trust the water founts of existence

Gave pleasure and joy a new meaning
On the tips of my hands in the
Filaments of the blood that flows in my heart
I was a captive and I surrendered completely
To her loving grip of ferocious

Love of life, her appetites for intimacy
Like estrogen invading my barbaric existence
What is her mouth to me, but the

Mantric lips of bowed trembling
Her coy attachment to learning the secrets
Of a Spring day, of another’s life
In a blur of the growing days of letting
Another spirit into our spirit to mix

With legs slightly apart, until
We could both not bear it any longer
To tremble touched from the inside.

The You of a Secret Kiss, Like Stolen Bread

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.