From Falling Bodies

In the past twenty years I have written about 400 poems.  Like real poems, not fragments. About 100 of these fit into a category I refer to as Falling Bodies.  It is a series of pseudo-scientific love poems, sometimes loosely tied to the natural world, sometimes downright systematic and analytical!  This one leans more toward the sensual.

WHEN I THINK OF TOUCHING YOUR MOUTH

Evaporating little by less,

we are caught over and again

below the waist, yet

somehow our clothing remains dry.

From one end of the world to the other,

the tops of watery curls

are determined to fall,

each as weighty as a breast,

crested, yet undemanding,

and the thin green bodies

of dark, top-heavy blossoms

quiver.

We suffer this calamitous parting 

of self from self, but in our madness, 

we are saved from time by grace,

soon to be only faint, reinvented spaces.

And this imagining?

It is much like walking through frost--

so much easier than life, yet

a bit ridiculous

in its appeal.