A Pagoda on outer love street

No prayers just womb,
rhythm and truth
unsweetened
alive on the unmade bed

No corners
no speakers
time is an oval
our bodies, the harps,
existing in trinity with the eternal

round pagoda

No padding
no typing
just drums
and nipples and fleshy
thorn-less desert plants

and flesh
and seeds
carried by mind
and wind
through a chink

in eternally round pagoda

Separate flesh from bone
lick your greasy fingers
explore the regions of my skull
stumble into remote
Territory
and nowhere you will find
the burning flaming mountain

Excavate my chest
and fall down in incompleteness
carved in cotton
made of memory
and wondrous astonishment
and not much else
but you will find
Love

In all its forms
and with all its
accompanying pleasures, complications,
ecstasies and frustrations,
glories and disappointments

True love, infatuation, lust,
Lost love, jealousy, enduring love… Love
The Sun Shouts

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3 thoughts on “A Pagoda on outer love street

  1. elscorten says:

    My favorite part:

    Excavate my chest
    and fall down in incompleteness
    carved in cotton
    made of memory
    and wondrous astonishment
    and not much else
    but you will find
    Love

    Beautiful, every word.

    And how the sun shouts Love (-:

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