I want to pitch a tent under the stars at Stonehenge. The stakes losing grip as our bodies erupt into voracious waves. The 5,000-year-old monument’s foundation rocked to its core by our sexual earthquake. If I run left or right for cover I hit your strapping tremor. Riding your harness, I climb to safety, draped…… Continue reading Pitch


White Rose

In your petals, the prism of love burns bright warming stem’s afterglow, though drained of any color you are a rainbow. Beauty’s vase is unable to contain all your splendor, a garden of heavenly scent you do render. Devoid of musical instrument, offspring of lyrical perfection you do sire, white as snow, your touch yielding…… Continue reading White Rose