Inspirationa bird of preywild dovethat you have calledand that I sendwith eager love,graceful, feed it your heartyour visions, even your lustso that in plentiful desireit may return to meand spread its wingsand gift diverse and wholesomepoetry.
Nakedshe knew of coming timeswhen versified fruit would growamidst the petalled touch,heavy eyelids, heavier hipsall glistening and glowing,thighs, parting as wavesand now, strips going downskin all exposedbreath moist, wild,the breast hangethnaked and freeand thus will be kissed.
AloneIn dying seasonsand alive againyour perfumeis traipsing on my skinand I will walkalone with itto places where we should have been.
The dreamhere, between stars is our placeemptywholesomespacewhere we have made a gleaming homereflected lightslipping between the swirling veilsof chaos,where endlessly we contemplateinfinite movementrenewing loveenvisioned and imaginedwe arethe dream of our creator.
The way of the worldPlanets alignthe sun growswinter fallsthe universe brewinginto a stormand its ever mysterious eyeRepeating timeswirling presenta future that will bewhat was beforeIt is the way of the worldthat I should be yours.
EnchantedKisses and touchessoftened whispers and caressesshe deserves on the skinon valleys and plainsgullies and trenches,one with nature, she breathesotherworldly wisps of airsignals of love and lifebirthed from flame,with own chants and moansshe callsbelow and aboveso the hands and the mouth travelto bringtouches and kisses, caressestolipsneckbreastsbellyhipsthighsall powerfulenchantedhidden places.
Liliana in August“Lil, wake up” a slightly familiar but strangely distorted voice said. Liliana woke with a gasp, as if releasing great pressure from her chest. The first sight of her squinting eyes was a peculiarly blue sky, framed by crimson poppies and roses all around. A moment and she jumped when next to her she saw herself, waving, smiling and departing slowly, until, staring, she could see the figure disappear through the greenery.She felt knots in her stomach, not great pain but something like movement inside her. Instinctively, she placed her hand to it and trembled when she realized that nothing solid was stopping it from going further inside. She grasped for cloth or flesh, some matter that could indicate her body was intact. She didn’t dare look but tried moving her fingers in all directions, without reaching anything. She felt a sort of breeze coming from her stomach, slight air movement, like that of cold spring mornings.She jumped to her feet, bending slowly to assess
Liliana's ritualRaindrops gather wildlyto guide her on the sacred pathadorned with books, candlesand rose petalsall around.She kneels, a solitary priestess of the nightplacing the petals, circle-strewnthe wind and water now arousedthey form the stormembracing herin its transforming eye.She is anewnow chanting high aboveand higher still, on through the rain,she gathers closeall that is dearthe words of life and lovethe petals and the scarlet flameand finallyin saintly revelationher mentor’s and her lover’s name.
One spring nightClatter, clattersays the voice of waterupon the rooftops,the tears of clouds are loosenot to bring sorrowbut replete with mortal contemplationwhile aboveis the endless field of starsand far awaybeyond the twin horizons -erotic Venus and warring Mars,and in betweena solitary mistress of the nightimparting romance down belowtip-toeing gracefully, for those who welcomeher lustful sighsand melancholic glow.