Monday, December 14, 2009

The Erotic Life



Sometimes, it’s nothing more than a foot in the snow, bare in its desire to feel.



From there, it’s the warm caress of spring air on a nearly thawed nipple and the feeling of forest duff on the knees.


Eroticism begets eroticism; feeling breeds feeling.






Everything excites the senses: bread dough, cool fish, firm sand, falling leaves, wet moss, mushrooms, morning coffee, vibrant flowers, muted hillsides, deep waters, the tongue of a cat, the music of verse, and the whispering comfort of her sleeping breath.



4 comments:

  1. ....and there is lust matched with lust, aggression admired, heat transferred, raw sexuality appreciated....I can still hear the icy tree limbs cracking in the east wind. I will forever be reminded, and never take for granted, how good it feels to fly.

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  2. What a gorgeous love poem, BAK. So touching and lovely.

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  3. Thanks, Neve! I didn't intend it to be a poem, but now that you mention it... :-)

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  4. You ARE poetry, BAK, to the marrow. It cannot escape you.

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