to contain

so soft are the edges

that boil and slide

inside the copper

a sweet fragrance

like sugar or moist tobacco

begging your tongue

to heat it

to bravely risk stringent addiction

tasting and….

moving

like a wild snake

coiling intelligence

looping and falling

willing

to swell in gravy waves

grasping the rim like a mouth

or fingers

to wander like an octopus

free my heart

to wild and gilded

overflow….

perhaps so hot it will fall through

unwelcome molten love

thickly sweating holes

into things

you thought were real

red feather flowers

fixer

you broke something

I crawl

in the ceiling

over here under there

in the dark night

under the new moon

this church is in disrepair

there is dust on my fingers

and in my hair

my heart

it must be here

somewhere…

I slide across

the silver line

along the dark wood walls

a small box

full of unfair

two red birds flying

this church is in disrepair

there is dust on my fingers

and in my hair

my heart

it must be here

somewhere…

I wander this house

dropping feathers like flowers

i smell honeysuckle

better than fear

Calling

I want you

Trying to make you hear

Through my dreaming

every day every day

every where

this church is in disrepair

there is dust on my fingers

and in my hair

my heart

it must be here

somewhere…

I’m crazy for you

I look for your eyes

It is me seeking death

my scorpion

your poison so clear

I need that piece you put in the ceiling

don’t see how but

you took it from here

this church is in disrepair

there is dust on my fingers

and in my hair

my heart

it must be here

somewhere…

http://www.artofkundalini.com

c’est tout lumiere

i see it in the cracks of your sideways smile

it travels backward towards me even as you turn away

it seeks me like a moth

i see it in your shoulders, tightly held

yet crookedly, secretly reaching through the crowd for me

aligned you are your eyes

a lake of stars

an eerie, erotic mirror

i see you like a fox trying to hide from the moon

ma lumière

mon coeur est allume parce que tu existes

no more no less

c’est tout lumière

to see more of my stuff please go to http://www.artofkundalini.com

full circle

 

beginning with sun

her heart was broken in two

ending with the moon

 

see more art at http://www.artofkundalini.com

Senses Speak

the curtains part

on

hot bulging temples

and spilling thighs

words fall against themselves

dying valiantly

letting senses speak now

beautiful uninhibited senses

rolling bloody skin

around

howling channels of desire

all sinew and strength

tall beasts

between french lines

claw and tongue

growling

i must have

the body length full

not whisper

not tips of bits

but the entirety

not nuance

or subtlety

no teetering bashful allegory

but ferocious indulgent swallowing

 

whole

 

see more ? http://www.artofkundalini.com

Dangling

and there it is

puffy with pain

liquid with shock

orange with fear

dangling

flashing

dangling but still blinking

blinker blinker blinker

exposing in flashes

little linguistadors

filing away

rubbing

glossing

smoothing

conspiralling

seeking

underskin

surging now

dismembering

hammering

and here the dangling

still

the orange star

dripping upwards

blinker

blinker

blinker

 

 

until

in early morning

I

seek

my heart

like a good friend

dialogue is easy

wavering like a mirage

swaying like a seasoned mother

but there are those other days…..

a smooth stone

a sheet of steel

a silent impasse

there is no other way

i stand at the door

until

http://www.artofkundalini.com

Orchids in her hair

Elegant yellow

cool ivory

spiced cream

chest deep

mulled love

spilling over

flavescent petals

buds of light

Orchids in her hair orchids in her heart – http://www.artofkundalini.com 

 

 

 

 

 

 

even in summer

see that hole

a no thing

a darkness spot

the one you can’t catch

the dipping shadow

skimming over yellow sails

spreading purple salt

it evades your finger

a spirit

trickster

lazer beam

you are a puppy

bouncing

tapping

sniffing whining

wishes are grabbing

it’s the one

the one that disappears

the min min

the eye dancer

frightening you making you tense in bed even on crisp sheets

even in summer

 more art? http://www.artofkundalini.com

The Curling Things

 

It is the curling things that encourage me

to move the perfect symmetry

the fibonacci

of chaos that licks me on the inside

and spurs me into action

It is the hardness that looks soft

and the elongation of rational thought

I am bound to the unravelling of design

I am clung

and sticking like

feathers to a bird

I am moving like honey

struggling to stay

glued to the spoon

I am the tip of a shell

spiralling like ice-cream to the limitless blue dome

above

the illusion of seeking

the stability of air

we are what we see and  my heart is breathing

space

more art please see http://www.artofkundalini.com