what is this thing
that has called me back
my attention awakened
now what do I do
simple sweet taste of taboo
or birth of the perfect poem
what brought me back
for more, more, more
warm moist lips
in my mind's eye
scent of wildflower honey
I drink in the nectar
what pheromone is in the air
from across neighboring border
that dares to me the risqué
of the morphing of Gregor Samsa
Je sui prêt
Elle est prete
C’est tout pres
C’est loin d’ici
poem©GW Crow 2008. all rights reserved.
11/1/08
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment