Exploring each other's
depths,
that surge of connection
which makes the world
seem sane,
that exchange of spirit
in the guise of flesh,
that morning hallelujah,
that hook
to eternity. . . .

All day I bear you
between my legs,
& in my heart.
Powered by your love,
there is no hill
too high to climb,
no paragraph
I cannot write,
no hosanna
I cannot howl. . . .

Shall we wear it down
with habit?
Shall that combustible connection
become, in time, homier
than fresh bread,
nourishing but unsurprising?

O my lover
meet me in the hollow
of a red thigh,
by mountains
which resemble
spouting cocks. . . .
We will keep
the madness fresh-
the red madness
that keeps us

sane.