Touch
In the steam, you disappear. I feel your presence only by knowing. You sit before me until you vanish; hot clouds dissolve us into vapour. Your strong sensuality, like a sensate Zeus, yet you become a phantom. Until I am alone. When the hot breathe of air presses in on me your hands rest on mine, our knees touch. Two figures of naked skin streaming as the steam subsides. It was in the room you built, this womb of steam from which we emerge wet and hot into the cold air of the welcoming night.
Rapture
We are clothed in the streaming truth of
the night sky, its melting snow.
Sheath of feeling. Words groping to touch air.
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-oh, writing process- on Metaphor
in my apartment on a dance-the-poetry-within-you day I never know what is going to emerge that day, ever, always a surprise a rough draf...
May you and yours have good health, much happiness, love, joy, peace, hope, and the blessings of the Muse in 2007 and beyond! Have a very Happy New Year.
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