Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Blue Love


perhaps it was your voice
humming softly in a crowded room
that carved a thrusting forest
through a deep-veined sun --

perhaps it was your voice
that lengthened in my skin
and blew a hissing waterfall
into my blood;

perhaps -- no, I'm certain now
it was your voice, because
with every syllable a beach
creamed in my brain

and measured histories in inter-
vals between your breath
showed visions of a flaming Rome

with Nero laughing through
your ancient face


you walk towards me when
I wake and when I sleep I feel
your naked shadow
on my skin --

you walk without a name, and yet
with every name, and I seek
to hold your coming with
my lips, describe into my eyes
your arms your legs
your loins and always tenderly
your face;

you walk towards me in the shadowing
of day. Always I see
new mysteries in your eyes, new promise
in your stance. Hold

me in the palms of both your hands
and fuck
my dreams away.

Victor Borsa

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