We lie there in heat, nakedly,
until you, lady,
begin to stroke with such devotion
and lazily lick your lips -
Then you curve your smiling body round my legs.
your fingers tipped with gradual lust
are lace, embroidering this king of pleasure.
you stretch your leg
and blow on my hair, on my skin,
then across the top of my thighs.
You slowly close your eyes;
you kiss once the shaft
and turn the tap of soft ecstasy
to a waterfall through my pelvis.
You shift, to begin to enjoy this more.
One of your breasts settles into
the bower of my hip,
and with your mouth all apart you explore.
Your face seems awed by tallness.
You wet with your tongue all sweet luxury,
sucking delicately over and round,
up and down;
your hair wafts across my stomach,
rythmically, erotically demure.
Your shoulders have a gentle power,
as, fingers kneading at the base,
your kissing lips group deep on purple.
Veins distend, and you control
such a well-designed uproar
into a caressingness of waiting.
I hover in your mouth.
Waiting, I become cylindrical.
I want to roll. I thrust.
You retreat. You take me in your mouth.
You fix your throat.
You slow, you quicken,
you taste on taste.
I moan, too glad, enclosed,
until as you take me liquefied
to flood your curiosity
I leap whitely across your tongue
and you release me
like a loving word you have spoken
enchantingly over and over again.
One flick, the tip of your tongue convulses me.
You kiss the shortening man,
your mouth dripping with
my fluid and your saliva.
Later you stroke
your wet discoveries
with one slow finger, dazed.
Then you smile with your eyes.
You roll over to ask how it was.
With your legs so apart,
your hair so wet,
and your centre glistening
you seem more ready
than ever before.
You stroke your own breast
and spread your toes.
Later when your hips lift
and I enter you quickly
your body moves like a tongue.
Then you begin to arch,
I cannot say how well.
I move to kiss your tongue, your mouth,
to dwell there in your breath
as you keep rolling,
moaning, giving, glad.
within a sigh of contentment -
leaves whirling down the windy street
brushed almost against her breast
within a sigh of contentment who greets
first some memory of a subtle test
her naked skin he saw in a half light...
beginnings of the love poem
seventeen wonders for you
my beauty, among them
the fact you are alive to see the world,
the green, the spark, the live crest
my love, i am too new
as we lean nearer
most often in summer, the unexpected angle
of a woman's cheek catching sunlight and beaming
light filled with her anatomy into my eyes
her face, just for a shining instant
the boat, the exhausted oar, the groan of afterlove
sweating, the hand across the hair as if the horizon
had melted, a momentary illusion before
the broad smile, the lip service
completely still night air
filled with lovers hovering on discovery
the warm day swinging
at the passing away of time, flame shudders silky
the gentle tautness natural at the start of frenzy
she considers the smell of her dampness
one of them wonders 'what am I doing?'
a single grief rustles,
a lizard in the heart's drier land,
once, swiftly, and a tongue speaks out from wet silence
a groan, an inexpression
later one of them drank water from a glass
and wiped a mouth with the back of a hand
when the smell is intense
when the variable night locks its secrets
an eye reading an eye
a hand reaches for clothes
a hand on a shoulderbone
one arm stills over a sad feeling
how long have we been apart?
passion a kind of architecture
for each other's sense of eternity
a fastidious glint of hair at the thighs
a single flush of blood
a single fingertip
a love bite under the mouth
blood has much to do with it
archaic patterns, ancient lovers
and a cry of antiquity