Wendy Sullivan

You asked me questions
with regard to climax -
where words are torrents
with semantic fluid
where feelings gasp across the slipway
and the height of the unattained is reached.

The cliff of consciousness
hangs but a moment
bucked beyond the brimming cup
the overflow spills from the lip
mouthes the magic that is bliss
breaks the wind in directions kiss,
strokes the skin of passions face
races riot down Lucretias neck
laughs rhythms in a Samba swing

You bit the apple,
till the checks are red
You draw the viper
to its fountainhead
You drink the nectar
from a Venus brew

We create the lotus life
where even poems pass away.....

E-mail Wendy

Panic! Poets

Panic! Art Gallery