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Saturday, March 15, 2008

Human Letters

A Complex Language or Patience Makes Perfect

It's difficult
To learn a new language:

To prime the shape of its letters
So as to correctly fire each sound,
A mouth working on new tongues
Gets better with time.

Like everything that's worth doing,
Love is a complex language
That takes patience to perfect.

Its practice is more
Beneficial than its theory,
Unless you grip its grammar,
You can't take it seriously.


You Spell LOVE

as slender as L
as perfect as O
as sensual as V
as crucial as E

that's what you
spell to me.


Angels Descending

Hungrily, very
Wildly, secretly,

Love flourishes, it
Nourishes, touches
Our toes, our noses

Acquire the air.
Leaves us there
With nothing to wear.

Nobody sees us,
Stops us, betrays us;
Soft fists of lust

Pound on us, crying,
Angels descending,
Blessedly revealing

Little or nothing.
No calculating
Or cold dissecting,

Just our experiences,
Christening dances,
In holy stances

Answers become obvious,
Questions oblivious
No longer matter to us.

Soul earth, gigantic organic,
Fingers break static
To touch the ecstatic,

All places of entry,
Throb with memory
Like a beating heart, madly,

Finding human letters,
Breaking all fetters,
A sure step that mentors

Love to be aware;
A gift to share,
Unravelled with care.

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