Wednesday, August 02, 2006

she looks to touch

These hands
contain Her fingerprints
the agency of relationship
that stars have with space.

Every pore and particle
is an estuary into Her reality.
Out of the mouth of the sea
sweet red lips are formed
saliva moistens the void.
Bread and wine
are conditions of Her desire
Her lunar cycle.

All things that have flesh
the weight of appearance
a time of disappears
are related to the same bright eye.
Every flavour adds to Essence.
Talk of "one" or "two" is tasteless.

In Her glance of love
bodies imagine themselves.
Every thought is a self-portrait.