just…
the uncomplicated bit…
you
make
me
fucking
moan
to make them blush…
The words that make the rose bloom were also said to me.
The words told to the cypress to make it grow strong and straight,
The instructions whispered to the jasmine,
And whatever was said to the sugarcane to make it sweet,
And to the pomegranate flowers to make them blush,
The same thing is being said to me.
– Anne Lamott –
unfold to us…
… so many corners in this city with her-shaped shadows. (The nubility of her youth is less shocking than one might suppose, all things considered.) There’s always cracks in a day where one can disappear (in)to. He counts on you looking away even as you blindly see right through.
… so few these days. He squeezes in one more kiss. One more moment before goodbye. Nestled in one more set of arms, he tells her he’ll miss her most.
gate c22…
At gate C22 in the Portland airport
a man in a broad-band leather hat kissed
a woman arriving from Orange County.
They kissed and kissed and kissed. Long after
the other passengers clicked the handles of their carry-ons
and wheeled briskly toward short-term parking,
the couple stood there, arms wrapped around each other
like he’d just staggered off the boat at Ellis Island,
like she’d been released at last from ICU, snapped
out of a coma, survived bone cancer, made it down
from Annapurna in only the clothes she was wearing.
Neither of them was young. His beard was gray.
She carried a few extra pounds you could imagine
her saying she had to lose. But they kissed lavish
kisses like the ocean in the early morning,
the way it gathers and swells, sucking
each rock under, swallowing it
again and again. We were all watching–
passengers waiting for the delayed flight
to San Jose, the stewardesses, the pilots,
the aproned woman icing Cinnabons, the man selling
sunglasses. We couldn’t look away. We could
taste the kisses crushed in our mouths.
But the best part was his face. When he drew back
and looked at her, his smile soft with wonder, almost
as though he were a mother still open from giving birth,
as your mother must have looked at you, no matter
what happened after–if she beat you or left you or
you’re lonely now–you once lay there, the vernix
not yet wiped off, and someone gazed at you
as if you were the first sunrise seen from the Earth.
The whole wing of the airport hushed,
all of us trying to slip into that woman’s middle-aged body,
her plaid Bermuda shorts, sleeveless blouse, glasses,
little gold hoop earrings, tilting our heads up.
– Ellen Bass –
there was a day like this once…
crash into me…
I’m bare boned and crazy for you
When you come crash
Into me, baby
And I come into you…
Oh I watch you there
Through the window
And I stare at you
You wear nothing but you
Wear it so well
Tied up and twisted
The way I’d like to be
For you, for me, come crash
Into me…
Oh sweet like candy to my soul
Sweet you rock and sweet you roll…
I swear, friend, don’t you know
I’m bare boned and crazy for you
Oh when you come crash into me yeah…
Crash into me
Crash into me
Crash into me
Crash into me
Oh I wanna play with you
– Dave Matthews –
the art of kissing…
Every lover is a glutton. He wants everything that is part of his sweetheart, everything. He doesn’t want to miss a single iota of her “million-pleasured joys” as Keats once wrote of them. That is why, when kissing, there should be as many contacts, bodily contacts, as is possible.
Snuggle up closely together. Feel the warm touch of each other’s bodies. Be so close that the rise and fall of each other’s bosoms is felt by one another.
Get next to each other.
And, this same thing applies to the mouth in kissing. Don’t be afraid to kiss with more than your lips. After your lips have been glued together for some time, open them slightly. Then put the tip of your tongue out so that you can feel the smooth surface of your kissee’s teeth.
This will be a signal for her to respond in kind. If she is wholly in accord with you, if she is, truly, your real love-mate, then you will notice that she, too, has opened her lips slightly and that, soon, her teeth will be parted. Then, if she is all that she should be, she should project the tip of her tongue so that it meets with the tip of yours.
Heaven will be in that union!
Lava will run through your veins instead of blood. Your breath will come in short gasps. There will rise up in you an overpowering, overwhelming surge of emotion such as you have never before experienced. If you are a man, you will clutch the shoulders of your loved one and sense a shudder course through you that makes you pant. If you are a woman, and being kissed, you will feel a strange languor passing through your limbs, your entire body.
A shudder will go through you. You will moan in the delicious transports of love. And, in all probabilities, you will go faint because the blood in your veins will be rushing furiously into your entire system and away from your head.
Thus, you will be unable to think any longer. You will only be able to feel, to feel the most exquisite of pleasures that it has been your lot to feel.
– Hugh Morris –
when you kiss me…
