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FIRE PLACE
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2003 Poetry time halts from spinning as you continue
to reel your athirst hand to my full frontal
waxing my breadth with the argot of your tongue
leaving my eyes see livid particles of bliss
we travel through the boscage of majestic grass
which have bowed to the slant of our body
caparisoned with buds and blooms quivering
to the moves and grooves of our bones
so this is the fire you swear beneath your scent
a chattel, I have become who blindly moans to your will
tonight, the stars will succumb their luster
as we hiberante inside a resplendent love's mantle
