être

  is this it drumming in my sensitive throat ? this dreamy elevation pounding up my stairs buzzing like bees behind my ears eagling awake my Ursa Major ? this cliche slapping my eloquence lathing me into curling pieces …. I asked her liquid scales I begged her I made water coloured love for her

Simpatico

art the samurai a language born of soft nib trailing sticky rouge pressing up off the floor art answers to my wild driver cuts corners, sliding sideways unravelling this tiny golden soul from the ribbons of a patriarchal past. ovarian ribbons, wet, sliding ribbons, sweaty, perfumed ribbons ribbons wrapped tightly, stripping through my naked body like