sex

i smell the hot shadows they linger like sticky sweet liquid and sunshine dark musky pieces that come alive to be collected in a perfect picture eaten later washing me with river fire perfume melting and spawning whispering on knifes edge weaving sharply softly through my senses figures who live in me who stretch and twine

oyster

hunter with your gleaming liquid heat you fire blazing slinger slicing through leather i want to know your bloody knife let me have it I want to crack this oyster open i feel it heavy hunter boots standing on your stepping over my slatted wooden floor i sink like sand I am or winter chill

Let Sun Dust Your Chest

      Chest frosted over claiming winter stories . Unfolding flakes of pretty ice clutch fragile hands . a formidable posing but seasons shift . Spring penetrates, proposing adventure . Stirring pots of colour array with toffee possibilities . Let sun dust your chest, sweeping ancient glaciers to slide a river of clean delight.

Running Water

    The River is wanton, it speaks to me and I listen. Restless creature I AM a mossy rock by this river. It’s earthy fragrance entices me, I stand quiet and let it touch my body. I put my face close so I can feel it’s voice in my mouth and on my lips.