Two Poems & Six Months

i would try his wood
to see if he could balance
my bold young stare
red dress and hair

with his mad sense of
our boiling blood
said,

“no we will never sleep
only at death
let us drive hard
make music
think surreal
dream glorious
know rhythm
perform more art
hear a full symphony
and after
have sex.

do you out here in the open.

stroke, dazzle, storm,
create colors and
capture fall with you.”

he was always like a song for me after that.

---

my big cat purrs, “I’m in love with your nerves.”
outside our window, the Sun blooms Orange,
and, playfully, my cat,
my Lion,
bites my lip.
his purr now a low growl and I –
sent high on the crest of this wave,
surging forward, rising up,
flowing onward, and churning within –
I, I
I
I bite back.
the Sun spills over our bed
and the gold in his eyes,
tiny blazing mirrors of the blooming Orange,
brings my breath hard over.
The Orange, whose peels curving backward send showers
of glorious luster across our faces,
sings triumphant and celebrates,
dancing salacious rumba to the rhythm of our breathing.

I can feel the embers burning now,
the slow twist of smoke
as it reaches up,
stretching, and spiraling
outward.
Snap. Crackle. Pop.
twigs and branches glow.
Snap. Crackle. Pop.
leaves burst into flames.
Snap. Crackle. Pop.
wood begins whistling.
Snap. Crackle. Pop.
this is breakfast, baby.
Snap. Crackle. Pop.
lips locked together,
now I am purring.
Snap. Crackle. Pop.
he smiles.
Snap…
Crackle…
Pop!

your fingers are skilled magicians,
and you play me like an instrument,
so I shall sing mystical melodies
just for you.

when we make love it is pure, magnificent poetry.
Supreme, Supreme,
Supreme.