know which way to go
to what, from what
i want to need, within this metaphor
to greet myself, my right hand in my right
between me, so my fingers move
my thumbs doubling the odds for love
intently following your frown
your actual arms sustaining me
the exquisiteness of your face
wittier than tartan twilled cloths
the eagerness of your vocal chords
high troubling the lustful state
o’ how your mouth moves
largely laughing in stones
assuming such positions
making you a better sir
a man
tucked inside
a pair of shapely calves
Lives an imaginary region
filled with zodiacs of blossoms
who dream of being warm
diluting the paleness
solely for a kiss
celestially levitated
nonetheless by want
nonetheless by love
me against you
while orange fish flash by in a pack
