the need

the moon beckons
my thoughts, my needs, my skin

it is at times like this
when whispers become growls
and howling flesh
claws at the sedate and senseless
concrete coffin
in which i all too often repose

now when I feel
oh most sincerely, most sensually
the man in me
the primal carnal beast in me
chained too long
restrained beyond my wits’ ends

and I cannot give
a monkey’s about what it means
to don this suit
and mew over mealy mouthful
droppings of decorum
that daily masquerade as civility

now is the time
when this pricking skin stretches taut
over pulsing veins
needing to touch, to taste every
sweet inch of you
thrusting to fill you within

for this, too, is me
this is the very needful man in me

worship

i do remember even now
every bit of my beloved you—
i treasure beyond accounting
these vibrant memories of you
and of blissfully entangled us

and as i breathing indulge
my evocative thoughts of you
i taunted feel again so keenly
this lustful longing to hold you
touch you, taste you again

and were these much arid lands
that indifferent envelope us now
transformed into the green
and misty valleys of ancient alba
i would to you a shrine erect

and there by love instructed
among the unpainted stones
over dew drenched grass and
the untamed vines that cling
to the altar of my love for you—

there I would worship you
with my hopeful urging voice
my tightly trembling lips
my eagerly exploring hands
my thrusting engorgèd cock

with every touch and tone of me
in perfectly pagan rhythms
quite deliciously designed
i would you wholly adore—
my most sensual and sacred love

man’s desire

fickle physician
magically mending
this wrinkled flesh
with angry sutures
scarring my skin
with knotted omens
enforcing mortality
drenched in brine
from one last plunge
into Manannan’s
tempestuous seas
so fiercely jealous
of the mad desire
this mortal inspires
in the pulsing heart
of Rhiannon fair
clutching the flanks
of her galloping steed

Salt Lake City 23 Dec 2012