words of a people aligned in their perfect order
I have loved
now I love
I shall lie betwixt her breasts
in the mood merriment of playful jazz
lust or longing, a wandering
a melancholy jest.
the star of Venus of Heaven
the tragedy of Euridice
we dance the dance of Polyhumnia
and write the words of Callopie.
we are like children
under cover of moon’s somber reflections
memories vouchsafed lying
on night’s dewy grasses.
– Hoc Scripsi
the flowers are yours.
>
wrapped bloom
naked,
plucked ripe,
full,
stripped.
>
to be virginal
>
and honeyed
in tactile, close
. . eye’d
. . sensations
. . and warm, full
inhalations,
pressing close
>
between your breasts.
>
– Hoc Scripsi
>
I stayed up late for this one last night and I am not sure it was worth it. but there it is. – Jhon
the platitudes of willful resemblance 