erotic confessions

                       1.

i have traced the curves of your moist language
word by word
their capacities exquisite within the walls of truth
we are fucking, bucking insanities defined
in the shower of seeds beneath the flower of night
i am drunk in the religion of your breath
in the spiral temple of your breasts
my fingers have prayed
my tongue has sunk hallowed
in the monastery of your mouth
our Pilgrim spirits have danced
in the creation of  their words

                     2

i know you on the inside
your sanctuary
i have walked your hardwood floors
and spooned into your semblance
i have grown into a steeple of reasons
preliminaries of wriggling probabilities
in the contours of your context
the square peg not always fitting in the round whole
the blues of a succulent parting
floppy afterglows of music softly oozing
saxophone rhythms
Billy Holiday in the mist
sending the fat cat under the bed
as we tumble from loves mistakes