Sunday, January 14, 2007

Poem: riding night mares

In the dark, in the dark which is inviting and full-scented
my body lies prone, a freedom of sorts, to abandon it

you enter, by what path I know not
since I blocked the paths with quarried stone
and the river of feeling that led here
I let it bleed dry
so that you might never sail its waters in the warmth of the night

before thought, before awareness of myself
there is awareness of you, of scent and skin
of flesh different to mine
and of blood which makes my heart beat fast

your unique signature: that the blood in your veins
makes my heart beat as my blood makes your heart beat
the occult significance of blood in a neat resume

neater than jagged piercing

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