I touch my hands to his face
the quiver of his lips on mine,
his lost eyes in my forest hair-
everywhere I land, he sounds
through the air, through skin
his body, with my shadow
thrown against the wall
and I begin, the gentle slip,
to whisk over him like a buttery dream,
how his face feels between my fingers
when he reaches me deep
to find all the paths that wind between us
but with every touch and taste,
I lead him astray
every which way
I can.
That was a magic dropped its light over our bodies-
I followed it between your fingers and the folds of your skin
and layed with it over your tender parts, simply traveling light
tasting dark chocolate melted in your mouth.
Sweet concoction, you undressed
noir, behind my eyes with your darkest side
long and cool, on the beat of numbing sound
I wear what you shed.
Rub away, rub my eyes
like you want them wet
your hint, your scent the coil of
a smokey nothing love, with me
wrapped against the wall
slide, fall
I’ll lead you inside
for the shadow of it all,
let your eyes watch and lift me,
let me crash down
like the wind slamming, tearing
a storm gate in the ground,
you are enemy warmth
with your mouth to my ear,
loving over me
and into me,
destroying my fear.
You are a method,
beginning at my temple,
out of view, hand-
press my face soft over your shoulder,
go and walk,
walk between trees,
my shoulder blades,
under the canopy of my hair
you can find something you lost yesterday
when you hid there from the world-
let me do something right now,
drop my hand where moonlight’s dance
and tide has teased you
out from under a perfect rock
and let me leave a kiss,
the oyster pearls you miss from my tongue,
a sparkling sentence of surprise
you know, you know will come
but you forget-
yes, I can feel you beneath my breast,
your method
skipping like a stone
tossed sideways from the shore-
splash into me a hundred times,
more and more-
let go, bury yourself
a deep vibration underwater,
somewhere an inside,
another language into depth,
our mouths opening every half-buried sunken door,
explore, you, me
this is an experiment,
hard against an ocean floor.
a stone
a cup
a window light
war it across
my skin lost
and lost
stopping when I speak
stop stopping when no speaking
sounds nearer
and farther
making words
all over you
you thinking you drink
me touching you drunk
in and out
with mouth
and eyes
velvet sand thighs
light, light
strobing and stuck
thread through me
keyhole
talk and suck
push, you’re a clock
all time tick
and tock
and a sundial,
don’t stop
don’t stop
don’t stop
Arthur Rimbaud (1854-1891)
“Obscur et fronce”
Dark, wrinkled as a purple pink,
It breathes, it nestles in that bed of moss,
Still damp from love, which hugs the slope,
The white thighs’ slope, to crater’s heart.
Threads, gossamer, milky tears
Wept, wept, in scouring wind
That drove them on clots of scarlet scree
Till they tumbled on the edge, were gone.
My dreams touch kisses, kisses to the gate.
Soul envies couplings of the flesh,
Its tear-bottle this, its nest of sobs.
Ecstatic olive! Seductive flute!
Throat sucking almond-sweet sublime!
Moss-circled, female, promised land!
Summer may be over
under this borrowed porchlight
but I’ll lean over you
one last time before the Fall,
your soft caramel hair to curl around my nipples,
you to warm with them
wanting your mouth,
my fingers know where you are,
brushing my thigh,
the tip of your noise almost there-
let me show you,
hear you when you enter
and push to the back of my soul
wet from an all morning rain-
come, let it pour all day.
on your bed
I’m making circles with your hands
and my hands,
I wake you
I taste you
inside and out
and you forget
everything
