Her name felt save in his mouth
Sliding down that mossy sink of darkness;
Where the moonmilk seeps above his head
And drops like sugary moonbeams down
His Irish skin
No mirrors, to reflect his cocooned crystals
Only pitch black shape-shifters,
In the misty middle rock
As a memory of indigo burnings surfaces,
And his exuberance is unleashed
He swims over luminescent calcite flowers,
And splashs in the pale, pearly thoughts,
Of how the way she’ll let him in
By a passage of mystical beauty,
Growing from tension, compression, and bubbles that crowds…
Until…
Yielding softly overhead,
To his language of love
And burrowing down into that wide mouth
Of security and curiosity
Photograph: Ryan McGinley
Welcome back. This feels like it’s taken from a much bigger piece. I hope there’s more. I love the ‘sugary moonbeams’..the best kind!
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Thank you! I hope there can be more to friend. Been occupied with other work and not enough poetry. I’ll swing back into…I hope.
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Life has it’s way of pulling you where you need to be. Go with it, don’t resist. We’ll always be here …eagerly waiting 🙂
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Thank you, for always being there Sir Mark!
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Beautifully written, really enjoyed this! 😀
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