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.
One last thing The smell of you Before I sleep Feelings I don't have words for
I would feast you in my great hall bathe in hot springs make love to you underneath the old tree Like the kings of old under the ancient gods rest against my chest and hear the roar of glory which echoes with each beat of my heart
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
Chase away The busy bagatelle, Too crazy with work To be feminine, And in doing so, Become as dry as the dust which sits, accusatory, On the black keys of the unattended piano, Here, invite me inside, Take my hands, Rough, warm fingers unplucking the knots you've become Peel away the duties you destroy yourself … Continue reading Hippocrene
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