dedicated to the One
with honey sweet eyes
One can die a many deaths,
Before having lived once in your eyes.
Then in that first glance,
You know everything.
I feel the arm,
Peach fuzz
Trickling down
Stops at a twist,
To give rise again in thunderous waves
To many a midsummer night’s dream.
Gulped into existence only where your dimples merge
Within folds that carry your age and existence
And your receding hair slicked back
Formed from thoughts of a hushed and rectified seduction
Indicates matrimony
Indicates, in one green glance, all that seems possible and impossible
Yet should be pursued out of vanity only
Helps differentiate pleasure from dignified agony
Restraint—from unaccompanied satisfaction,
Desire—from torpor delayed hot white of its languor deprived.
Sweat,
Sweet sweat,
Seams of the lips follow
Creases from necks to hips
Like ebbs and flows that taste of salt water,
Each grunt and each whisper,
Expand and contract,
With heartbeat and breath
Fire within sin
Sin in the knowledge of Satin
And I finally reach the part
Where the thunder lives.
The moon that trails an open car seat,
Visions, force, veins, strength of the arms, vigor, laughter,
Green eyes,
A little death of cordial sensation,
A silly belief in bismuth
Where all must decay in borrowed youth
Withheld fixation
On a new-found attraction
Yet nothing helps
Suffocate the fires
That blaze with sudden force in one moment
And become so close a companion in another
That words seem insufficient to convey
What it would have been like to dream
Without the ashes being there in the first place
For in time those fires may well subside
And give way to nascent and novel infractions
Blaze with the same exact unquenchable thirst
And make you forget the first fires, in the first place
A momentarily occluded conclusion to a convoluted study,
While I lie in the backseat and think,
Moments like these were hard to come by,
Now they are a routine
In many a midnight where summers dream...