All men are wolves, We sniff, piss and fuck But the moon, to each of us, wears different faces And different times. You, my moon, Above me, in the coldest reaches, How you rolled a cigarette, the marked fingers caressing magic From the mundane The way you drank beer from the bottle, Made my mouth … Continue reading You, My Moon.
Wet Alive Far from cold More akin to the elemental forces Prompting the rain against the window Lengths, depths and widths rendered illusory Pores threaded, so each utterance you give Tugs me all over my skin The strong, alien gravity Ducts the fluid from me We are powerful fists Closing Cradling with deliberate tenderness These … Continue reading Volume
I want to make A mess of you Fuck you into Smithereens Not from an absence Of understanding, Its opposite, To see your hair Spread out Wrapped around my Hand as I whisper My instructions, Each thrust Is a prayer To the hunger Making you beg, Baby girl, Thrash heavy thoughts Into light, glorious Feeling, … Continue reading Mess
To, At, For.
Sat there, Quiet and about my purpose, But I look across, You catch me, and you see beneath the calm To the surge of feeling beneath. Sometimes you laugh it off, With me, not at me, You test me but only so I Remain calm in the storm Of your being But you see in … Continue reading To, At, For.
Rain In The Afternoon
She had been squalling all day. A quiet irritation and restlessness had lent an edge to her demeanour. He had noticed it as he put the cup of tea down on the table that it would build and burn her out, then exhaust her. He could ignore it, but he saw how it hurt her … Continue reading Rain In The Afternoon
Way and Symphony
To lower my head to you Palms underneath Careful as picking a lock Kisses salt mixed with Your wetness Bathe you there Seeking locus Frequency Symphony of you Find and sing it with me Into being Bring you home to me Then arrange Raise Find my way home In my own sweetly powerful Way