Kiss

I kiss you:  momentary amputation of the world--U.G.DeLeon

But that was twenty years ago. Life in the eye of the hurricane, love, has changed all that, hasn’t it?

Now the eyes are unclosed, even mostly focusing properly, with little or no flutter.

The lips, though soft, are only warm, and almost need a chapstick to recover enough vitality needed for a decent ignition.

The pulse no longer accelerates quickly, and doesn’t exceed the speed limits once set for it by nuns and others.

But I’ve been involved with a kiss before leaving for work.

I’ve been stuck on ‘momentary’.

Maybe his momentary is only a condensation of an entire life of kiss.

Momentary, but transcending moments, beyond time, a more-than-lifelong fire that only glows while radiating times 'n' the heat of a faster flame.

Amputation, but with a local anesthetic and not really severing completely, yet enough to know total disregard.

Yes, I do still kiss you as DeLeon would have done.

 For the love of a Poet

Barbara, you loved me, a baby hiding in loose-leaf notebooks, spirally bound.

I wanted your body--and spirit, I thought.

You gave them with care, but from fear I ran with half of your body and none of the rest.

You wanted my body--did you want the spirit?--but from fear I ran leaving nothing but a gap unpluggable.

Barbara, I loved you.

Let me love you again, still a baby, not hiding, with experience enough at the breasts to fill both our needs.

 To Suzanne

Set aside the bitter

taste the honeysuckle

flower overpower them with sweet and sour ribs

that are tickled into submission by the sound of her hello.

              There are times when love is

At times I dream dreams of a real world where callousness is not,

and human beings live to love each other and others. 

So reality does exist in my waking hours,  but why is it only while I dream?

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The sweet of the meeting glows warmly in mind reminiscing.

A Memory

Your name is spring

and the sun

is up to my ears

in puddles of warm,

splashing fun-softened you

Midnight Wake-up Call

           Late sex

                 is

          so much fun

    in spontaneous bursts,

       sparked and fueled

                by

             years

       of maturing love.

Two, easy over, please

Platonic

I don’t believe (in) it

Love

Is more than a wordful of tender or

Feelings on high-

Er than me plane.

It’s me

That will touch

With my hand as

My heart as

My will be with you,

Embodieds embracing.

        You again

Meandering amiably

among friends and woodcarvings,

my thoughts, until they come to you.

Then (they) settle in

as if for a long, long winter,

on a mountain, in a cabin, near the fire,

under the warmest wool.

This can’t be Lust

I can’t deny the feeling,

  it refuses to go away.

It’s easy to renounce

  with head and hands in play,

but impossible to stop

  when heart will have its say.

It’s easy for the head

  to simply stand and stay,

but impossible for heart

  when she will lead the way.

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