beauty

APPETITE

If I starved myself of food
I would never feel
e m p t y
because someone
with a taste for beauty
made you delicious

THOUGHT #450

One’s eyes see in every unwritten language that which every written one could never describe.

HONEYBEE AND FLOWER

Opening my soul,
the petals of its
soft, pink, silken flesh
become a mirror,
beckoning all and any
to the gateway of my swollen, naked heart.

And oh,
how does the honeybee suckle,
I remember,
approaching with a mask of raw intention,
innocent, but for the ravaging purpose
it knows only, yet again, to – here – ensue

. . . and so it does.

My blushing fortress sways and tempts:
a feathered
floral
nudity, as,
in you float,
oh honeybee,
in pregnant pause
to share my perfumed freedom
as I blossom
with your tongue inside my lap.

Crush me not, but leave me torn
– yet, just as gentle.

Your organic levitation swells my fancy.