in the dance, slipping

I turn, become
in the dance, slipping

on the blood of my heart
about the floor

like grapes gone
to good wine.

And I smile to the sun
in the distance.

This is life, leave me not
to stagnate on the vine.

untitled

Tea grows cold
as I stop in reply.

My heart blocks
at points (protecting)
it knows not to pass
so I am only able

to want as deep
as I am let, yet
love as deep
as I require. I stop

in thought, fingers
on lips as I gaze
out across the sky,
tea cool and sweet.

I drunk deep, stretch
and form the words.

from february 28th, 2006

Brief but in the mind
flickers bright thought
something coming
on the make barely
you, lid on contained
I swelling to the spill.

Both in flux, we press
the tease, tongue sweet
on flesh in the eves
we meet and breeze
sheets a tangle, please.