It’s a hand in the fold of your back. Warm. Skin smooth as tomorrow’s horizon. Possibility. It’s a cheek nestled just under your chin. Short breaths that tickle your neck as you swallow all apprehension. It’s the embrace that folds you 1000 times. You’ll never be alone. You’ll never be let go. Heart beats like duct tape keeping two bodies intertwined. Sweat beads down palms full of questions. Eyes avoid lips that whisper, “take me,” like a death bed proclamation. If only we could move beyond right now. If only we could bow out gracefully and seige this forever. This is a walk on the wild side. This is what the natives meant by love making. This is our revolution. Surrender to these arms and let us declare war.
Putting together a book is always an emotional journey for me. I put myself through each piece. I want to see if the emotion or message I’m looking to bring forward is there ready to be exposed. It’s a tedious process that can quickly entrap me. But, that’s a good thing. If I can read it knowing what to expect and get pulled in, the reader, not knowing what is to come, should certainly be invested.
The last couple of weeks have me feeling highly inspired. Interesting how unknowingly anything and anyone can propel you into a state of explosive creativity.
Not sure if all of it will end up in Solitude. I don’t believe all of it is non-specific enough to make good poetry. But, for those that make the cut hopefully it will be well received.
We shall see.
It’s Louisiana deep fried sentiment
Split down the middle
Ripe and red
Spit out the seeds
Greedy down south
Growing like tormented insides
Too famished to resist
Dinner table set for 2
Gorge yourself on what’s in front of you
No regard to those waiting
No intent of what’s enough
Cross every line
With a knife bleeding desire
Accented with the sound of harmony
Pure as cane sugar
Turning tea into addiction
Food into sex
And Louisiana deep fried sentiment
Into broken nuptials
©2011 Dew – Solitude (May 6, 2011)