tendrils

my marrow's spiderweb tunnels echo with your walk of life. across the wide red river grains of the Southern Provinces of the Sahara and within the staccato outlines of the museums of Old France, you drive my smallest bits to become something infinitely more powerful than religion.

my pigtails ache for your alternative medicine.
soaring through the high reaches of arches in the dirt crosswalks of the Capri Islands
or building bridges across the muscled bronze contours of a new breed of David-
you were felt in fibrous existence even months before your bang thrust persistence
of entrance.

(in Rome we walked the alleys of rippled drumbeat breath circles,
i sensed you growing wild in the distant reaches of my secret Arcadia,
in every shadowed brick crevice.
moonlight illumination.
between the book bars and coaxed cafe Campari hushes,
i taste a real woman's soft whisper meditation,
her chocolate serenity,
and watch her shoulders curve just the right way on the stairway:
and already an effortlessly blinding birthing of light grew on my pixie rings of peace,
my self salvation germinating.
we push our approbation through the lands of search-
barbarian bus stations and Jesus sandals that wrap our ankles and break our bread,
and somewhere a slice of my head is simmering
in the juices of your pre-bliss preparation;
beard saturation &
rainbow recollections
that lead me to believe every step was one in accordance with the laws of
Lot.)