August 13, 2012

poem 269 of a poem a day for 2012




what sounds I hear, pen to paper near

do I cape her
drape her
like fine cloth
in a forearm lean
against a cushion of air
jellying my bones
with the scent of her hair

captured 
could she be 
teasing me a bit
piquing my blood to rise
pinching me to know my hands
are already on her shoulders
in a ready throe pulse tingle

the world is an open window
with diamond Sun coming in
scoring time's dug nails 
across my skin
my body is bent
lent over clocks
everything stops and
pearls moments on strings

a frenzy of howling
finds every sweet
sharp tine is full 
of go further
than the skin allows you

all my rhythm
wants is more
is the door open
wanting
wanting more
wanting the sensual
salts in the tides
wanting to root
where the dark rides
into the daylight too
and all I can taste
is the poem at the end
of my cock gliding
sliding into every part
of more please

EJR ©

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