March 7th, 2003

bodac

Delectation

I want nothing more this morning than to kiss. To feel the press of warm lips, at turns insistent and yielding upon my own. To dance the mutable dance of variable pressures, first soft as gossamer, gentle as breath; now emphatically taking and being taken, the convergence of assertive will and urgent surrender. To switch roles as leader and led without terms, without negotiation, and without pause. Just being, sharing, tasting, exploring, and feeling each other as one, lost and found in the pleasurable indulgence of lubricious desire.

I need to talk to my writers. Because cold coffee is hardly an acceptable substitute for this.
  • Current Music
    Shouldn't I be working?
moon

(no subject)

Come away, and breathe fresh air!
Must we keep on and on
Sipping stale honey out of tiny cups
Decorated with golden tracery,
Drop by drop, all day long? We are alive;
We thirst-- Come away, plunge, and drink, and drown
In the great river flowing to the sea!

--Cyrano de Bergerac by Edmond Rostand, Brian Hooker Translation
  • Current Music
    The irony is that I'm reciting poetry that comments on the inadequacy of reciting poetry. D'oh!