His body is a breathing landscape.

His neck falls into a valley from the

Cliff of his chin, moves into

Mounds between

Two mountainous shoulders and

Hills, covered with grasslands. Or,

There may be dunes, a barren-smooth

Desert filled with black sands.

Stomach dips and dives and finds a lonely

Stonehenge, covered by moss-covered boulders.

Bering Strait, a

Latent fountain lies within –

Waiting to explode onto her neighboring mounds and mountains.

She envisions twin pillars of stone flesh,

Sharp curves meshed to form shadows at dusk,

Hinged to continue contours and ridged ridges.

And with his extremes,

Palms branch fingers made to caress

Skin, venturing her lands.

Discovering perfect imperfections with most intrigued hands.

Copyright 1997. All rights reserved.