Wednesday, May 27, 2015


I (drip form)

Let me, with the subtlest -- almost intangible, mute --
request to cross the line, have my fingertips
stutter step, all over you. Stuttering,
my tongue as are my fingers,
discovering, mounts, valleys,
forests, mouths. If sunlight,
even the most timid of its
rays, pierce, dagger-like,
this room, then perhaps
the gods will find us
quivering, moist,
and disapprove.
Sweet sinning,
but sinning
just the

II (sonnet)

I, with the most subtle, intangible,
Request, shall cross the line, with fingertips
Running stutter steps, all over your skin.
           Stuttering, my tongue as are my fingers,
Discovering mounts, hidden recesses,
Coarse throbbing slopes, rivulets and wet mouths.
           If the sunlight, even the most timid
Of its rays, pierce, dagger-like, this bedroom, 

Then perhaps the gods will find us naked,
Quivering, warm, moist, with one another,
And disapprove and threaten punishment.
          Oh to consume beauty, and be consumed by
Beauty, right or wrong, in heaven or hell!

Sweet sinning, but it's sinning just the same...

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