- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Amante XI
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What is self, Amante? Let me know your hands
on supple skin and the heat of bidden breath.
Usted tiene mis palabras, submerged strands
of want, desire lifetimes deep. No earthly death
can quench the thirst unbottled here again
on supple skin. And the heat of bidden breath,
surmounting moments unknown now or then,
still elemental, felt within an artful phrase,
can quench the thirst unbottled here again
if it can be, and shades of mores are to raise
reluctant fingers, seeking soul hid in a face
still elemental, felt within an artful phrase.
Poems are imprints. Art can weave the trace
with near forgotten kisses whisperingtouch
reluctant fingers, seeking soul hid in a face
that never spoke to me and yet said much.
What of self, Amante, can I give your hands
with near forgotten kisses whisperingtouch?
Usted tiene mis palabras, submerged strands.
- COMMENTS
LeBrozover 16 years agoThis poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 38,000 poems.
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Liarover 19 years agoThis poem has been mentioned in the New Poems review thread over at the forum.
Tathagataover 19 years agoand want drips from this.
These poems always change my consciousness when I read them.
for 3 or 4 minutes...my whole thought process is slowed and I smile and drift into memories.
It is magical writing
Thank you
