Brush Sunrise

In a dream just consumed, I feel myself
Rise on a newfound crystal purity,
Inhaling Vecellio breaths that burn me
Through the swift ardor of this vision passing.

And though I am assuming no virgins,
A cyclopean cascade of the softest flesh rushes me
Skyward to the roaring tip of Mont Blanc
Where I see the most delectable set of cerulean eyes

In a cloud that is misty and flat as a stingray;
Though in its brevity as it collects my very spirit,
I discern that it is distinctly feminine
In a wisp of champagne tassel and pallid leniency

That pulses from fingers pulling me�
Moth orchids� lazy lapping kisses
From the nerves of my own steel tips�
Into the white ghost of her breast. I come

To her bed, at sunset, in a pithy moment of time
Where colors clash and momentum wheels us
Into becoming one flesh above the earth�s last spire
Of moon and sun as winds whip acrimonious songs.

I take her; and she takes me.
And we blaze a night of disarray through placidity,
Hesitating only to bid morning a good night
In finite gasp of breath before satiation, before collapse.

I wake in a tall grass, cocklebur suffering me
To know its tease of apathy in heart-shaped leaf,
And brush sunrise open with a lucid smile
Beyond even the skill of a Titianesque shade.

As I rise to startle the rest of the day awake,
Etched like a mirror in my hand, I find a pretty
Favor of a moth orchid kissing open a blas� dawn,
And experience the first taste of Zion and beyond.

roadpan � 2005
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