an abstruct season

it’s an abstract season
like nomadic wayfarer i explore your soma
your cries and whispers have no orthography in the sexual grammar
Still naked still idol of many trade winds
i write with broken silences ..
my pen drips blood into your amoral heart
your blue lustre made of sweat and
pearl. your face:
an Indian moonlight of Ithaca
i repeat the ritual
Banished from sin and the sacred
your eyes blue are the veins
of the Aegean stream of consciousness
as black breasts pillows of atonement
your wave of desire come and go
glinting the foam’s long gray frieze
hands are made of broken corrals
arms the coves of false confessions
Give me the shadow of a purple kiss

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