Wrulf Gunkl-Vonglashaus Poet Ballad

Shaman Untitled

... long ago
in the timeless now,
we traveled, when
came a shaman
giggling in the glee of bringing us chest-to-chest,
his eyes mirroring our
lustful wonder of nipple-kisses
in burnished darkness, a dawn
flooding our mouths in feverish melding, and
the wind opening, ravishing us to
find our roots in olive groves between the pillars of our thighs,
temple incense, earthy aroma and soil-pores
birthing obelisks taut and sweetly anguished for
the suckling moon-circle of our lips,
and the shaman sighing in sanctifying the curve
of my nether realm as
your mount of worship fed
on your furrowing seed, sung
by hissing, the sacred pleasure of
toes curled like
your hair washing the valley of my neck,
your fingers against mine counting, then crushing
the blasphemy of time spiraling giddily
into the flirtation of your eyes
challenging the irises in mine, asking,
begging for us to meet again and again
until the sun is finally watching,
begging
for a temple of its own
and us inseparable
by even the sword of its rays
while the shaman smiles in sleep,
exhausted by our satiation -

… yet, come, there's morning on
the far side of this orb, but
no more luminous than the furnace of our lips
embracing our ageless now

… so, kiss me - kiss me, love, again, again and again...

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