Hats off to whomever
tuned the blend
got my toes tapping
heart pumps
races up my leg
like a ruby lip
smooth ride
tension sprung
unbound gypsies
how we release
watch me twirl
my bandanna is now
caught fire
Chagall 2015
Tag Archive: sensuality
She whispers
It’s you from long ago
And indeed I feel younger, more vibrant
As I run soft kisses along her neck
I ask her
How will I be?
Chagall 2015
She asked if I thought I could fix it
I said sure, your Hotspot is off
A simple hand gesture to toggle that button
Should make all your blues go away
Olé!
Chagall 2015
I am a mob of one on the flash
A pulmonary conviction
The membrane of your choice
I am the Matador, Sinewy Eros
Entangling horns as they come
Nearer to thee than the moon
Dear Gaia
I am millions of deities rolled into One
A lozenge, a salve, a breath mint
As a harpsichord I traipse the body luscious
The perennial you plant
Every year hoping
Ground-breaking rip-roaring shattered
Glass
Jagged shards, Green clovers, Pink moons
Lucky charms and amulets
Around your ankles and thighs
Tigers and bears
Oh my!
Chagall 2015
Just jiggle your eyes up and down
like you swing when you sway when you dance
Bilingual so cunning we lip-sync till vibration booms flows
like monsoons in a trance
butterflies flutter by
hmm . . . wonder why?
rub-a-dub scrub in the tub small circular backstrokes in front
more nimble then able my horses they fly, saddle one babe bubble-up.
Chagall 2015
The cut from your cheekbone
to your chinline down your neck
lies the flat plain above your cleavage
where it separates in two perfectly
aerodynamic curves that cannot be comprehended
on graph paper or by formulae
Chagall 2015
The cut from your cheekbone
to the line of your chin down your neck
to the flat plain above your cleavage
where it separates into two perfectly
aerodynamic curvatures that cannot be comprehended
on graph paper or by formulae
Chagall 2015
The cut from your cheekbone
to the line of your chin down your neck
to the flat plain above your cleavage
where it separates into two perfectly
aerodynamic curvatures that cannot be comprehended
on graph paper or by formulae, could only have been
conceived and made real by One who truly knows
the meaning of lust.
Chagall 2015
He from the shower all clean
and I from the garden quite sweaty, we . . .
did the gate just click shut?
© Chagall 2015
I all clean just from the shower,
and you from the garden still sweaty.
God, how good that was!
© Chagall 2015
Alphabet City 