Monday, December 23, 2013


With a guttural diesel engine's roar
a great hound treads the road. . .
A countdown, our rolling new year's eve
to the station, when must part

In the forest of sleeping bodies,
we play two clever trees
Woven round each other, oblivious
Let the passing lumber men disdain.

Our hands were always lovers,
passionate, hungering, knowing one the other
An intimate origami of blushing softness and bone
entwined with all the longing of our bodies

Our lips excite the air with word
as with some breaths we joke and speak
come Closer, I will whisper to your skin
caresses you, with my breath, my heat

Closer, as words become secrets,
and trembling skin their parchment
Closer, my darling mine,
so we might share a breathe as one

Breathe faster, Closer and content
lips pressed hard, liquid as tongues
for our station approaches
like evening sun

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