Tag Archive: sensuality


A Fine Long Tickle

So adept her foiling the mesh like that
snared prolific beneath too many stories
nearly bad endings

Some torque at the hip wrenches her thrusts
she needs to invigorate tightening tendons
to stretch wider slowly, more lazy laterally

So all is forgiven though all is so lost
also and again yet again

I watch her in profile, breathlessly arced
above her off-shoulder, a continuum of rounded
embankment, her body cut luscious
arcades where we play bathed solely
high windows tint green
afternoon trees, warm breezes
the eve of special days

Chagall 2016

Tell Me About Her

Colored beads cover every atom of her surface
skin to halo collisions create misty aura

En pointe her tenons convey the brace of hearts,
on flex she sighs as she stretches that about her which is ground –
not earth, but the space against her figure where existence breaks into outline
against the void she enables

She hurtles through space, falls at the same pace
as mystifying tendencies there on the outskirts

My fingers trace her hem to a chorus of Amen
remnants of older chants echo about us

There is sadness in her beauty
melancholia piques her desire

We find random wonderful happenstance
perfect such that there’s no need for change
so we will time to stop to persist every aspect
to christen Us as timeless

Together we as twin stars bare
heavier atoms still

Chagall 2015

Optical Collusion

Too much optimism is cloying
while actuality is not quite as stark
as the realists might think

There is truth in the ground
but one needs to make figure
go away to see dark matter

The two profiles are the urn
a kiss creates then spills an ewer of honey
making for sticky back and fore grounds

Your aroma is metal, flinty
yet underneath sweet like talc
provoked aflame you are caramel

Stretched, kept in contact too long we fuse
the undersides along the length of our arms
our bellies plus our thighs adhere

Erasing the lines that define us
we become amorphous form with shading

Chagall 2016

Ça veut dire

No rattle less hum –
breathless longer than planned

she glides with the softest
of leads less than air really

Les couloirs
she says pointing, excites many meanings

She knows I pretend I’m unsure
that I’ve heard her correctly

Chagall 2016

Before time there wasn’t only
incessant heartbeat

Humans though water are merely steam
no less of all things

The moment before you knocked
the door swings open wide: you arrive

The ones already in search continue
long before you’re here

And wordless reads best
though you can’t remember

I relish the sizzle
when we meet ice

How we burn
underneath the numb

Chagall 2016

Wa-wa-watusi

You keep seeing me from the outside in
I think that’s good
she said

Up to a point I’m guessing
then it demands
deeper dives

A roil – yes there must be
one of those – a tussle
some physical fabrication

Two bodies meshed – or is it fused?

I think it’s just sliding
gliding really

Chagall 2016

Not Really Saturday, Is It?

There is no day
for this is timeless
light at an angle
setting the stage
for me and you

The sun just beyond
the outskirts of the dome
casts a gold peach shine
that bakes us warm

I stand observed and seen
apart from any movement
of moments, even they
freeze

So still
one can hear
oneself breathe
one’s own breath
in the space of intervals
there’s lifetime

Let’s wait a beat
let’s bounce about
so ably we abound
round bottomed and bare

Chagall 2015

Friday Nite, Need I Say More

To indulge the juvenile delinquent
in us, divulge if you would delight
in making out for a moment?

Nothing real crazy
just a peck or too
or three will do.

Nose-to-nose who knows
how far we goes, head to toes
maybe.

We
shirk
all
pressure.

Who knew so little soap
could emit so much lavender.

Chagall 2015

Trust Me, I Know The Difference

I demanded of the bouncer
to return my money – the sign said
Lurid Thrusts & Primal Undulation
while all I saw were timid sways

Chagall 2015

Herizon

I cling to her voice
as it emanates from silicon
compressed audio that’s naught but a
phantasm of her life and blood
no warm scent of talc but when I press
against the nape of her neck
when I lose myself
in the long float
down

Chagall 2015