Long Passionprayer Poems

The Taste Is Bittersweet

I have been unfaithful,
under a curtain of night
even as you laid
a fingers breath from my hem,


he stole my affection 
in sheared moments of Ecstasy
 
~~~
 
We came together 
an eclectic mix,
liquid methane and fire,
once we had merged
our passion ignited
 
after the flames died down,
I took out a staff of creation
combining oceans of words
with waves baring 
the muniments to love,
in a age of stars
nestled in black petals
and in the prayer rolls of galaxies,
my letters of adoration 
shimmer
 
you can use a finger
and trace the path of my desires
through night 
 
mouths of dark and light
kissed,
soft and gentle,
to a fevered fumbling
making poems slide out 
between a tongue of your breath
and my lips, 
I create my own beginnings, 
until the end is whispers
 
I ask for no Taj Mahal
or crown of Sheba,
what use have I for a thousand ships 
hulls busting agape with ardor,


I only yearn to taste the first syllable
that flows from the tip of your tongue
my lust twirls dream-catchers 
and yet I crave the rush of methane,
 
my lust sparks to mark the darkness
with shooting streams of love 
 
~~~
 
Neruda whispers to me of scents loosed 
on the float of lemon flowers,
 
his rest begun 
in a the soft valley 
of my heart, and
he knew not how, 
or when or from where
 
but from the other side
he found a way to my heart
timing the tide,
his words now rest under my tongue
and are savored with passion,
I am reduced, again and again
 
all this?
is only in my mind