now i in the o pen place where i o eyes fail let touch be sight
    let words thrust as fingers into the furry into silent breathing
    and the gathering gloom, all tongues

    and this dancing this twinning, this mind-licking, this feast
    you bring me to your table oh and your open wet dish
    succulent grape of your speaking.

    and i come close and the hot hard headiness like inebriation
    like your smell, your perspiring spread gaping pores your skin
    near me and my metal heat

    and our hands moving down to flesh and peeling away our
    second skins our armours of daylight and longing long since
    peeled and tossed into fire

    and the standing, watching, waiting, untouching gaze, the holding
    back until hunger bursts its vessels, honeys our mouths with all
    its red, angry insatiable feeding.

25 September 2001   01:23 hours
the memory of your taste { } pathetic fallacy