I’ve heard before that madness is love and love is madness. Either or, both generate fabulous
poetry.
I never realized how much the Cummings and Whitman and Shakespearean poems I read as a kid shaped my youthful existance.
No wonder I’m such a sap.
Tonight I burned lavender incense and stared at the stars.
french kisses reminisce of the way you taste
Did you not think
You’d miss the swish
Of these hips.
The way… how I…
t
-w
i
-s
t
Turn into something
Waiting.
Tick…
… Tock.
Clocks that beg with heavy legs.
Pegs in points
You can’t change.
Like a voodoo doll
Using keen precision.
D
O
W
N
To the finest…
I want it to be fun…
To read
My
Body.
To taste
language like
… a lover.