VEDA 1

the dent in the steam is always our lovemaking, making things
that hurt so good before the pleasure swells into an indigo of unspoken
joining the invisible reality that valentines on a spark of moist joy-
toying with bliss like an angel throwing dice in a womb
we cum undone. noise berzerk with our caterwauls of yes. storming.
we surge where our vigor is as sweet as miles between sins.
foaming at the mouth of the ganges with torrential lust
unforbid in the brass dome of our algebra
summing spheres out of thighs
that twine.