Morning Madness
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.
