# 3 Write Love to Me

>> October 11, 2012

Write Love to Me

If you feel like writing about me,
of that fleeting moment when you slip inside,
of the flashing rapture of expectation.
and even though you're within-  you're also wrapped around,
and when I look up,
I see your eyes,
but you gently move inside, and
I turn blind
with a longing- so basal-
it’s shameful, at times.
If you feel like writing about me,
write about those fleeting, flashing moments when
your warm tongue prods and nudges, discovering
places I didn't know exist
and when you insist
on moving faster and harder and sooner
and I soar, we soar-
together, you and I.
Write about those fleeting, flashing moments,
as we summit those peaks,
and the sore slow descent,
back to our tangled heap of limbs and love,
write about the ache, barely there
that remains.


#2 Kundalini

>> October 10, 2012

Thank those urges, I say,
for the “residual power of pure desire”
for lust, for passion-
for sheer physical being.
For the mental explosions
of that avid experience, in union.
Thank the fervent longing, I daresay,
for the slaves that we are.
uniting us,
in animal pursuits.
Elevating us,
reducing us-
and gently reminding us-
that evolution, notwithstanding,
progress, thought, philosophy –
and all else in between-
cannot free us from the captor
of desperate, decadent,
sometimes, even divine

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