Wednesday, December 20, 2006


The Beloved is wide open
wrists tied, hips hoisted up
into my deep breath.
Touchstones change what touch them.
I am water running over Her lava.
Ghost-forms melt in hot butter
desires kiss themselves.
We dance, not together
but as flames do
pouring out of the same presence.
Speaking from
the same yearning mouth.

Tangled into intimacy.