Tuesday, August 7, 2007
For Famtz, who unnervingly feels like my soul mate. I am amazed at how we always blurted out the same things at the same time, despite the fact that we had just met. And even after he got to know me better, the theory became all the more real... because he could read my mind, my thoughts, my emotions, just from one-liners in text messages. Maybe soul mates do exist, maybe not. Maybe there are past lives, and we are reincarnations of lovers who were meant to find each other. Maybe not. But really, who cares, because as of this life, this time, this soul writes for him.
At the mental seams
you and I were conceived,
(stitched from the rags
of empty arms)
souls joined at the hips,
grinding against each other’s need
to be. Above the bed lay
its parallel line (contract, horizon,
point of rest) where slept
the discovery that you and I
have met somewhere before
in this illusion of a future woven
into our past-entangled arms.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
A minute of sensuality, of intimacy should never be taken for granted.
What is this feeling? this growing sensation? No, not what lies between thighs.
its something much more special...
Take a hand and cup a face,
lose the thoughts and gaze into soul-ful eyes,
what do you see?
Reflections:
The need to graze fingertips on bare skin,
the warmth of mild tanned cream tones, goosebumps,
what is this?
Maybe the tenderness of lips pressing against yours,
the moist breath seeping through each kiss on surfaces,
or a combination?
Wanderment of gentle hands, through shapes and lines,
curves and peaks, where soft and hardened delicate sensations
implode a fragile mind, why is this, is this normal?
Urges for an internal caress and a kiss of a different kind
for a pair that makes a barely conscious decision,
to part inbetween and close inching torsolette gaps.
Rythmic pulses and flows of orgasmic beat, senses,
pleasures of each, then the 6th and the 7th come within reach.
Is this love?
A reflective minute of an intimate gaze before the act began,
soul-binding pair, never take for granted what you see... in your lover's eyes.
Monday, July 2, 2007
Let me kiss the lines on your hand
and plant my scent on trembling lands
numb with vulture hunger for thumbs
to circle my nipples, for palms
to carry my breasts like they were
vessels for cupping memory
while we wait for the sighs of rain.
