Whoa Pablo Neruda is on my mind: Full woman, flesh-apple, hot moon, thick smell of seaweed, mud and light in masquerade, what secret clarity opens through your columns? What ancient night does a man touch with his senses? Oh, Love is a journey with water and stars, with drowning air and storm of flour; love is a clash of lightnings, Two bodies subdued by one honey. Kiss by kiss I travel your little infinity, Your borders, your rivers, your tiny villages; And a genital fire ─ transformed, delicious─ slips through the narrow roadways of the blood till it pours itself, quick, like a night carnation, till it is: and is nothing, in shadow, and a flimmer of light.
Posted on: Mon, 17 Mar 2014 22:57:25 +0000
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