(I call it) MAGIC
Your kiss
like dark, nutritious soil,
churned within the Earth and now contained
in the back of your truck,
warm and rich, fertile and waiting,
as you press, and I hold,
as you hint, and I respond,
slow to accumulate,
yet awaiting the moment
to burst forth and emerge.
--2012 (in who is to know what will grow)
Your kiss
like black, spectacled reflections
under a sunny, San Diego sky as local beats
persisted and pervaded and night fell upon
our shoulders
and upon a cityscape
where starlight twinkled
and moonshadows danced
out and over
a quarter-pipe.
--2011 (in sweetness)
Your kiss
like giant space rock
bursting into flame
overhead
shot through
this wandering soulstar
puncturing its atmosphere
leaving it to burn
in orange anticipation and
in the heat of red's passion
awaiting
your lip's return.
like giant space rock
bursting into flame
overhead
shot through
this wandering soulstar
puncturing its atmosphere
leaving it to burn
in orange anticipation and
in the heat of red's passion
awaiting
your lip's return.
--2005 (in passion)
(Yes, she likes to kiss and tell.)
