The fresh sunrise is the size of a half dollar held close to the face. It ignites the ice-encrusted world and petals into cold flame the frail blooms of an early spring. The ice is death, but amid the veins of light that web skyward it suggets a life of its own. I am tired but it invigorates me and I wonder if I am glowing as well. In a contest between age and youth, the dogs play in the still morning, their breath visible. I imagine their barks are cacophanous. Perhaps they are just opening and closing their mouths in a silent parody of conversation. The crunch underfoot is delicious and I laugh as they pound their paws in the snow towards the hearth warmth of the house.
Tag Archives: face
The Naked Angel
As she sleeps I trace the blue veins on her face with my eyes. She has skin like softly burnished oak. Pools of green moss in late afternoon sunlight are hidden behind those lidded long lashes. She kisses the air. Am I in her dream?
Narcissus Upon the Face of Time
The Time Traveller let himself into the darkened room.
The Time Traveller, lying in bed, saw the man enter.
The Time Traveller walked to the bed and with cool hands reached down, to warm naked flesh.
The Time Traveller reached up onto cool skin, undid jean buttons and grasped cock with hotslick precome.
The Time Traveller, through the back door, entered and came.
The Time Traveller groaned and ejaculated a grunt.
The Time Traveller grinned at himself and said, “Ain’t masturbation groovy?”
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