Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Imaginary boyfriend from high school...

With his light hair
And darker roots
Hazel eyes
And junkyard boots
Cool-cut clothes
Long heavy chains
My imaginary boyfriend
Plays with me games.

Magick We Yearn: Revisited

His warm, light basement is home to energy;
a place for all kinds of magick.
Magick for love and lust,
of sensitivity and pain to take place.
With cords, rope, and the perspiring nakedness
of our flesh, together we make magick.
We tie knots, weave gentle sigils on bellies and goosebumped
chests; we heave love
like boxes and like delicate vases;
together we burrow: digging into holes with sharp,
solid shovels, and at other times with caressing fingertips,
flicking tongues, and soft
thrusts with the spade.
Always, cool lips meet and we suffocate
from bruising pressure.
We chant spells with our sighs and moans of
numbing pleasure–but our spells are never old.
Together we dance and perform ritual–for magick we yearn.

A B C . . .

A B C . . .

A beautiful catastrophic
delirious escape
from gorgeous hills
into jinxed kindness
love me never
or poison quarantine
risks stiff, taut,
universal vibrations
winged xanthic yeast

Monday, November 23, 2009

Makeout Session (Also old)

Make-out session Tuesday January 2, 2007

Inching away
foot by foot
Nearing and nearing
until twitching spasms
occur and do
not cease to
tremble the hands
she hides and digs
into soft flesh
teeth into neck
and weakened knees
bodies embraced and mouths
soft lips touching
more like chapstick than
No invading worm
No searching fingers
Pure outward
Teeth again
Ears, knees, mouths . . .
Until time ends
as does this sensual make-out

Monday, November 16, 2009

Dig Into Love (an old poem)

Dig Into Love

I want to dig into my love for him,
the way I dig my pen into paper--
without tearing it, but leaving
my mark.
All I do is find the music,
uncover the things he likes,
and retain them in the jumbled box I call
my mind:
dusting through his words
I cling to his touch,
all the while I need to
scrape the surface--
and find room for him.

Love: Brief description

The stillness outside is dark
You invade my thoughtlessness.

Fear is a broken
waterfall crashing on stones that jut
Shattering louder with every fall.