journal entry on april third 2001

love is the last religion

....i was enjoying you as much as the cigarettes we were sharing. inhaling your radiance - your perfumed photography of perfect beauty. i was enjoying the evening - damp - dim - covering us in secrecy  - minutes alone in a wet universe. the drinks hushed my nervousness and my eyes drifted down the tranquil landscape of your rising body - reminding me of some story i had read in desolation - your thinking sung out in pure honest lulla-byes of conversation - winning my heart for the few short moments i was opening its chambers. if no one has ever told you, ever shown you, how sweet your every sigh is - then let me offer my bashful poems - praising the honey of your breath and the warm spring rain in your eyes.

....watching you, corner of my blinking drunk exhausted eye - i felt like a child - peeping at his first naked female form - ashamed - curious - drawn in at the wonder of flesh and soul - and as you gently fluttered into bed next to me - i reveled in the warm flowing ocean of your hair - darker than the blackness of our midnight room we shared.

...two more miracles before we slept - the cool and warm rush of lips and tongues and the subtle breezes of hungry breath - and the faith and ease of your hand locking into mine - pulling it over your chest.....me , a tired , old , gentle and calloused blanked for an angel with tenderness for skin.

Author's Note

written for jordan wills years before i came to new york and we fell out of friendship