~ Heresy ~
Old women cackling, crackling like worn bone-
stir that cauldron up with gossip, day old truths.
At your windows cheap talk flits between,
suspended like a length of thin rope
laundry at your feet-
You've hung me out,
beat the dust from me,
wrung the stains until your hands chapped
pink as your clacking tongue-
"Did you hear? Did you hear?"
Magpies feathering their nests with words,
plucking a tasty morsel-
"things been odd since that one's come..."
"things not quite right, haven't you heard?"
Wag a crooked finger at me,
Say what thou will, say what thou like-
I can only laugh, cock my hips as i walk away-
And when engaging those old men
in conversation behind a lifted palm-
the web of lashes against my cheek,
the cut of my glance my accusations shall cast-
For when day drags night down by her inky garters,
and when my bare feet tattoo a circle of my floor,
and when my fingertip has marked the page-
I will have plucked your bent black feathers,
then i will have my say.
-Prayer of a Drone-
Tilt that cup towards us, beauty...
the saucer of which rests politely on your knee~
We buzz close to your perfumed wrists,
a white throat that rises gracefully
like a swan from the waters of your blue-green blouse
Lips upturned against rim.
The honey sinks beneath brew
unaware of your graces, of each pulsing beat
that throbs beneath layers of skin
it knows not of worldly devises,
cannot know the glory of being within
vessels of the divine.
Processing, putting out, dreaming of the sky
which unfurls like the heady promise of
lofty hope before us~
We make our beds of clover and grass
sweet, dewy licks of coolness
that douses the skin.
It is our song that draws you finally,
whirling like a constellation of gold
glistening pollen & rain,
catching light... all for that sweet drink of nectar,
a lazy caress from the mistress' lips
and perhaps a taste tomorrow.
- Speaking in Tongues -
I place upon your lips these words,
to speak out loud where ever you go-
to wrap around your tender body
as i would my own mouth
with a sensual gasp as these lips part,
hovering over you.
I would lay down speech
subtly, over your pale, warm feet and let
it trickle slowly down your arches
like bath water
to comfort and dissolve you
in hot, embracing waves-
licking your calves on the way up,
longing to tremble against your hips,
i could do this for you-
if only you would take these words
and bend them around your giving form,
take them into yourself, each shivering syllable
melting against your vibrant tongue,
embrace this language and
feel it's hunger throb and resound,
a secret lover or a fetish that
appeases your darker side-
it is a dialect that i translate,
a tongue i will speak for you alone.
|World Visitor Map|