Posted by malthus on September 3, 2004, at 22:50:29
Rose-garden of murmurs,
cicadas insomniac
in the sleeping grass,
the stars are swimming
in a pool of frogs,
summer collects
its vases in the sky,
with unseen hands
the air opens a door.
Your forehead's the balcony
the moon prefers.The moment's enormous,
the world is now small.
I am lost in your eyes,
and lost, I see you
lost in my eyes.Motionless couples
in a Philadelphia park,
or in a garden in Asia:
daily communions
under the various stars.
On the trellis of touch
we climb and descend
from top to bottom,
kingdom of roots,
republic of wings.Twisted bodies
are the book of the soul:
with my eyes closed
with my touch and my tongue,
I trace out on your body
the sacred canon of the world.
A knowledge without a name:
the taste of this earth.
poster:malthus
thread:386213
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/write/20040828/msgs/386213.html