if i reach out my hand…
When you breathe on me, my body responds with your name. And I want you exactly where you are, the way you are. I want to spread myself so that you can peer deep into my need, and still sing my praises – even as my soul sings yours. I want your tongue to trace every tremor. Our fingers entwine because we meet in the middle, and the force of our meeting – this pushing, and grinding, and moaning into shoulders, necks, thighs, and more – is a blessing I have dreamt of but was afraid to ask for. Your eyes full on mine, now.
Come here.
Be with me.
My sweet lover, my friend.
Cum.
gone are the birds that were our summer guests…
The crickets are raucous; wild for a reason, I guess.
The wind feels like… courage.
(Like that, only simpler.)
The fire pit smoulders; my hair smells of ash.
Tonite.
A season comes to pass framed by silky memories
and eventual, hopeful strains for some near-distant night.
You. Me. This.
We spread ourselves wide to the horizon that cradles our future –
the velvet expanse of our yet-to-be-known.
Awash in the restlessness of almost-goneness
I wish I had more time
grateful I can leave some of all that was behind.
A fruition of time that on this eve
blossoms and wilts.
Leaving is bittersweet.
It always is.
L
– Lola Moi –
song for the mo(u)rning…
A
A
A
That early light burns most clear
and I am its brink
My song the breaking point…
try a little…
You know she’s waiting
Just anticipating
For things that she’ll never, never, never, never possess, yeah yeah
But while she’s there waiting, without them
Try a little tenderness (that’s all you gotta do)
– Otis Redding –
rising sun…
skinny legs and all…
this shoulder, rest…
Sleep has kissed your eyes. Do not deny that sleep has kissed your eyes. I have seen him kissing them. I have seen him kiss them like this, this way!
So put your head here, on this shoulder and sleep;
sleep, my little one, sleep for you are at home in your homeland.
– Kahlil Gibran –
bodies need souls to share…
temple storm…
storm-strewn & slick
raven tendrils
plaster temple walls
lusty incantations moan
pillage
compel
revolutionize
disciples to the cause
spread the velvet dawn
eke out the rites of spring
‘tween sheets sodden with seed
sing
sing
a song of songs
my lover
my sweet
sing to me a new song
storm-strewn & slick
sing
– by Lola Moi –