39.

Today, the sky is
full of a beautiful slate
surrender, whipping

a tumult among
the shoveled and leeched
clouds in the abyss.

38.

An army of rage
seen through frenzied limbs action.
This mosh pit madness.

37.

Here I am, stuck still,
as words line the sill of my
eyes, and meaning falls.

36.

Beautifully poignant
renderings of sound, cast heart's
exquisitely low.

35.

The writhing of flesh,
shudders us together and
apart, skin dancing.

34.

The delicacy
of bent stem's petals are cowed
under morning dew.

33.

The velvet brush of
tongues and skin, ply me into
a sweet surrender.