- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Canvas Complete
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nine
the number of perfection
the embodiment of spiritual fulfillment
the canvas complete
the painting so pure
you are drawn to slide your body
between its infinite edges
absorbing the pigments into your skin
like the slick sweet sweat of love
embracing brushstrokes of passion bold and telling
and I cry
tears tracing the lines
of poetry you send to me
I cry out into the darkness
with the bursting light of the little death
A thousand poems fill my mouth
yet only sighs
and breathy entreatments
are offered upon my tongue
I cry
for the perfection of the canvas complete
my pen to paper
strays in sharp strokes, rhythm
devoid of rhyme
method, stripped of reason
you are master painter
spent
the shared canvas now complete
we begin anew
