Shining threads

Shining threads

Thursday, 30 April 2015

She moves she

She moves she wears
she has got  tartan tantra  on her mind.
Wild winding Scottish sex
where the Highlands meet the Himalayas,
where Nepalese Sherpas meet Glaswegian players
and it's hard to say which way round things are
when we get to this point.

She moves she holds a space -
Ruler-consciousness from head to toe, it all fits. So.

She moves she becomes the wind
and the wind becomes her.
In a flash, in flesh, in a lightning strike
her intentions are known, everywhere.

She.  She moves she seems
she upends she dreams
into mercurial streams
of neither this nor that
but between and betwixt
there is movement and there is her.

She moves she stares
in a way that is never rude.
She could stare all day
and crowds would flock
to drink from her eyes.

She, whisper it, moves me.

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