The Cerebral Catalyst

He takes the I-Ching
Of his flesh
Grinds it
Into my being
Makes it my reality
And I groan out
A lithograph of needs
A litany
Of music
In sighs and greed
Defines me with his teeth
Outlines me in screams
Teaches me a new language
And interprets my soul
I write a vow
With my tongue
Along the line of his stomach
Speak of endearment
Of desire
In the ink of my saliva
Make of him my cave wall
My native legend
Scrawl my animal
Into the canvas
Of his body
And wait
Ever wait
For him to inscribe me
With his tantric flood

I am his ocean.

______________________________________
Keri Baker has been writing since she was a teenager, and intends to keep going 'til they plant a tulip in her and deem her fertilizer. For the non she is going back to college at the tender age of thirty-three to figure out what she wants to be when she grows up. Circus clown and wild goat tamer have been listed among the possibilities.

posted 07.18.05

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Site founded May 7th, 2003, by Project Catalyst.
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