concurrently...

But brief in the mind
flickers bright thought
where something comes
in the make barely;
your lid on, contained
while I swell to the spill.

Both in flesh, we press
the tease, tongues sweet
on skin soft. In the eves
we meet in warm breeze
and sheets a’ tangled,
thrilled the other to please.

i was not dreaming

I was not dreaming!
It was the Sun in the eve
and twilight I saw. I ran
my cheek along his length...
flesh and tongue we did speak
without words as hindrance.
And as soon as he was leaving
as soon as he had left, the warmth
fleeting, suddenly I had touched
not near enough and was in want –
always I lay in want regardless
of the taking, for I do take, regardless
of the giving for I do give. Suddenly
tongues at rest I watched wide-eyed
at loss, in need, so many thoughts left,
as dawn turned my sighs; It may be days
before the sun comes again.

another sunday not mine

Warm Italian sun streaking
in on a west coast sunrise
through billowing whites.

Babe at ease in her basket
(so bright she has your eyes)
as she looks about and coos wide.

It is early morning after all
as the sun lays soft upon your cheek
that I kiss as I rise, take our babe to breast
mill about setting out
morning paints and words
softly humming in my head
ready to be laid to ink.

Thinking of breakfast fruits,
your cider, my tea, Babe's milk,
if I should send you for bread.

Cool tile on warm feet chilled
Hair disshelved, gossamer
gown alluding to nude,

I seek our bed again and your arms
that engulf so strong and readily
through gentle smiles we all three spoon.

random spring thoughts

Why can’t love stay new?
passion and active validation
brought to each and every day?
We are masters of mind,
our actions, reactions. If we
do our best, think the best,
wouldn’t causality logically apply?

Oh I am not naïve in this,
too hardened has my heart become,
too much have I lost and left behind
in sanity’s search too oft.

To the first new day
that first flower
opened soft and sweet…
chance the day she'd
wither on the vine.

chees grits, darjeling and sunday morning

Last eve

My lover left me cold but brief,

even soft down could not warm as

dreamscapes of his flesh faded

into the twilight of rotations; yet

come again does he soft in the sky

'midst wee hours and 'tween blinds,

dappled light to my bossom blessed.

Ra came to me in passions dreams

and woke me with his gentle kiss,

his mind as much his soulful touch

do I pine for and greatly miss.