Here is what is evoked when I play with opposing, what I believe to be, masculine vs feminine words. Leading myself into “the labyrinth of the intimate Nature of things.” (32)

The lips of my memories kiss the very essence of my dripping voice;

the tenderness of my speech has dripped among the burning field in which I’ve roamed,

when I have burntly spoken these words, am I lost, or awakening?

Awoken by my bliss of contact with the penetrated body, silently wondering, what will you stoke within me?

The tuning bridge of the wondered has twisted my pantomime in two                                               a lulling amorous feistiness, asking for an inner possessing, a release

of inconsistent forethought.  

Possessed by my own content I ask, witch way do you hold your eyes when you fully arise to the reveries of wholesome bodily exposure?

Enlighten your willing and I shall hand you my willed.