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
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
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.