my wounds
don’t feel
like wounds
in your hands.
they feel
like beginnings,
like a chance
to make things
right again.
— Pavana Reddy —
it pays to look up…
until we shake…
In every man’s heart there is a secret nerve
that answers to the vibrations of beauty.
— Christopher Morley —
ride the wind…
The wheat feels the shucking of its chaff as puffs of pleasure shoot and sprinkle into wild air. Rub. A sigh slides by.
We ride with abandon, parting paths with whetted tips and slickened lips. We ride.
Harvest the secrets of my heart, wrap them inside words that feel like song. See me as I am: wanton with wanting you.
the narrow road…
wild honey…
a tug of greatness…
Goodnight, my little farting Nora, my dirty little fuckbird! There is one lovely word, darling, you have underlined to make me pull myself off better. Write me more about that and yourself, sweetly, dirtier, dirtier.
– James Joyce –
he said…
step it up…
