Love is in my mouth —
 on its roof —
 like a seldom used broiler
 now stuck on.
My breath runs hot —
 like a quiet dragon
 huffing to itself.
Will I ever express
 the burning word? —
 or maybe it is just
  a gentle kiss.

You delighted me
 proclaiming you were making them
It was the best thing
 I had ever heard of
You asked for sugar
I gave you salt
Thus, my first taste of heaven
 was horror
Oh, Karma
Still the best thing
I imagine
Just a little care
 on my part
the missing ingredient

Beauty before doubt

The most important thing
 about a loved thing
 is it is loved

Oh Universe,
how am I so lucky to be your lover?
When I breathe, I take you in;
you take up my exhalations.
You decorate your forest of curls
 with fireflies,
don a cap of full moon;
in the heavens of your eyes,
 your soul flashes
  around me.

That sweet, hot spirit
 wound up in beauty.
Oh, delicate possession,
 to tenderly touch, to stroke,
 to let loose those pent-up sighs.
You demand I separate
 the spiritual from the physical:
 that is my desire.

Not that everything is good,
 but there is good in everything.
Patience and such faith
 cherry–pick the tartest sweetness.
That’s why Aunt Sally’s pies
 go right to the heart.

Though we shuck it,
 let us bless the whole wheat:
  it yielding the kernel
  and from thence the whole wheat.

I kneel upon your lips,
 hold my hand to my face,
 kiss my fingers,
 and press my little hand–kiss
 upon the stub tip of your upper lip.

I light my candle
because it exists.

Damn candle,

brightness piercing
through my tears.