spent spinning bottles of deep purple violet
to let juice be turned from water to wine, a miracle of divine intervention,
the hands of love
embracing the deep contradictions to find a peace of her own womb.
ROMA spelled forwards is AMOR and yes this city squishes the hands of the ticking clock to
of presence of human body sculpted out of ancient stones. lines licked from sand spreading out in waves
of ecstasy brought over from ancient egyptian and greek dynasties to feel land sliding between our inner
rolled out kneeded and turned into gold to be brought up and risen with the temperature to cold the kill
i feel slippery and wet and want to get out of the water, time to spread my hands and feet…
now i am born again and ready to arch, i turn to rome, to let the water be transported,
and as i am asked to begin to fly, my wings spread into a florence sky, leonardo had to draw
someone has to open the books, steal back from the crooks the intelligence of the mind
loving its holy holy holy ancient bottom. god bless the well is full again.
the warmth given from places remain; hold together something physical and sound. real in the feeling of
what is really happening. i love being in love and italians make me feel just this special warm recipe of
body language physically expressing the tempos, rhythmns, sounds, of being… alive. i love the warmth that flows between men,
the natural giving care and attention to each other’s physical presence, bodies ready and open to move, talk, laugh, touch.
i am learning to connect to my inner male energy that so deliciously waits on, feeds, gives,caresses my inner divinity