Anavim

Anavim
The juiciness pressing against the taut purple skin from beneath
From where does the grape circle start?
Infinite spherical spiraling
Ending at the entrance of my lips
Supple flesh bursting with sweet renewal
Each bite necessitates another...
The dangle of promise as a hand
Is touched by the wind
Touches the wind
So my breathe can feel it
-Semadar
In my veins I have smelled this life
Taste caressed by sweetness
Is there a man as reliable?

I warm

I warm
In a bubble of whirled up heat
My vessels reach out
To the surface for answers
To the sapling periphery
All of me flows
From my roseheart center
Slowly I morph
Blindly I know to move
Outwards I grow