Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Conversations with Her Part 1

what have I done to deserve so beautiful a posture,
so gracefully your words spoon my mind like a swan,
how fragile the moons glance I see flickering,
outward I sense my heart fluttering, pining all that is you,
groping in this shadowy space to hold your eyes fast,
i feel needles poking my skin, asking things I want,
you the flower of morning who succumbs such thoughts,
these lines a testament to my willingness to open,
I feel you Lilyann, every peach drop of juice you spill,
your words like sunlight warming this spirit

serenely: but with a zest, I walk water for you,
gliding without moving I glisten with your dew,
I am melting like the hours looking for you,

I palm the consonants as if your body, stroking each one
as if it is the sweetest myrrh, drinking more than my cup full,
you the blossoming light who extracts such blue wonder,

angels feign in your glowing circumstance, the way
you exalt such lofty ideals of what true love is,
pinpricks resound these lines, echoing the ground to shake,
egging mountains to move themselves, you erode all my defenses,
I am chalk white hollow bliss, surrendering the wind and sea,

I edge further crawling over broken glass and feeling no pain,
to you I would endure every hardship, any compromise,

tickling keys talk, chattering joyful sounds, swimming
rivers with hands who will not rest, I am getting closer,
I touch your apple skin, tasting the core with a foraging hunger,
to sweet cool beading lust that builds feverishly,

I denounce any worldly happiness, discarding any meaningless fancy,
for this abounds with truth, it asks nothing, demands nothing but
to be heard, to be read as if it lives, and it does live,
it grows like the fire you ignite, like the salt of my skin
you have tasted, I am nearing, hedging closer still

Kevin Harling.

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