Come here, she blushingly cries, Come high to me limber-hipped man,
Stand at my side till I lean as high as I can upon you,
have me,
like a honeycomb all over your hands.
Clothed in one dozen halos,
brows the colour of beetle,
her body is a plaza full of Sun.
Hunger, thirst, shrieks, dance, dance, dance, dance!
eating the blood berries evanescence slowly.
She bathes in pearls
All the things I might not be;
Take her head upon your knee
Flippant, arrogant and free,
She that had no need of me.
Furls of existential decadence,
how everything melts and ripples together and apart and together again.
The curves of her throat kindred to the curves of deep and somber velvet jungle flowers.
this
lonely
attracts
men
to her ankles,
the way
the drip of a mango
causes fire ants
to find their teeth.
the pit of a peach lingers in my mouth,
cool moonshine
touching her, an act of war
sweet and poignant, whining and soft. Then, to complete the orchestra, comes kirsch, blowing a wild trumpet blast;
although the swell of the heart is not landscape but the fatal pull of the moon at our roots.
I ask only to be thrown in her pristine vivid pinks,
but only a sulky light drips in my bedroom window, like molasses.
The atmosphere is of lavender jacarandas, like blooming at night.
Sheer enchantment, fear, humiliation. It all comes with love.
A man's appetite can be hearty, but a woman with an appetite is always voracious,
but hunger, HER HUNGER,
makes her melt into the air
with a voluptuousness so delicate,
her body
fading gaunt and spare.
how many times has the word honey appeared in the Bible..."
