heartland poet, dark tangles, with wounds
which half of you is imaginary?
your writing’s starting
to make my loins twitch
whose fault is that, anyway?
you gonna tell me
no part of it is conscious

I’m wanting to descend into matter
with you
you’d know you are savored
believe it
you’d know how it feels
all my sensors being focused

your wording’s lust enough
but now you’re floating an image
no fair, millenial woman
your angst is too eloquent
coming for your insides
staying for your outsides
or maybe I have that half backwards

you’re making my soul twitch
laser-guided
and my soul is connected
to loins

_______RS

► Handy INDEX — scan through all available ||SWR|| articles