now is the moment i must ask for you
to pause whatever you do, whether three things 
or thirty or none at all, serious or sacred, 
profane or silly, pause within that condensed immensity 
of yourself, disconnect the tumult of petty torment 
to trust at least for this after all the abstinence
between us, trust and remove the hierarchy
of security clearance, of laws like walls of thorn 
just for this, just now, an invisible letting go
of what is not intrinsic but distracts to protect,
let go and allow the potential of us again to exist 
saturated with outcome pluperfect, and know
i love you as van gogh would, struck by you 
as he was by sunflowers and daffodils and rain,
by field and forest, that i see you with same intensity 
and love me, just now, love me for grasping the world 
holding you, love me for being mad as he was 
for beauty, for love, for genius, love me with clarity 
as a fury of star and calm of moon in woman form 
within this vast rapacious empty, love me and feel 
sunlight kniving in its trillions upon your thighs,
love me like it never hurts, love me like the pain
is a melting snow, love me that i am equal and lesser
and better, love me that i am my own never best
but by you, the roving hunger, the wild bloom,
love me that i cum to you two, three, four, five
times daily in honor and worship, in confusion
and control, love me that i become your exception
beyond exception, that my madness fits your own, 
love me that you have always wanted a fairytale,
that this much i can do, love me for wanting you
taking lovers who must allow that you call my name
never their own, love me outside the worries of safety
that we are brighter in the dark wisdom of ourselves,
love me with the focus of a book that sustains the years, 
love me with the warmth of a cat beside, love me
that our deepest vows are unbroken in their ideal,
love me as a greedy stubborn lecher of an egoist 
suborned, love me for loving you cunt and ass and mouth
all of it your mind, love me like a promise kept
at any time, sublime, love me o heart of salem, 
o succubus o witch o girl, love me with fingers twirling
upon your oceans, love me with dangerous grace,
love me as the boy i am, an ever falling angel of a man,
love me for losing myself in your hair, for finding myself
in the quiet glory of your eyes, love me no matter 
who is close, who you take, what obstacles dissuade, 
love me as king who is no king unless you love me 
with incautious sapience, my queen, love me
for being home, that we are the thing of things,
love me for slipping out that you feel my thriving
drive into you as you reach and pull and place me in
that i feel you, your clench and opening and moan,
love me, marry me, katie lynn.

My love's a spill 

of nightshade; a daffodil spray 
by moonlight; a cross-current
that spirals the spires of fire
tended with loss and wild in low 
apogee and wide azimuth; a child

of salt marsh before the siren
of the sea; my love's a wave
awash upon a wave awash upon star
storm-cloaked and lightning raw
with inscription; a warning

as promise, as kindness, as meta-
morphosis and apotheosis and tongue;
my love's heaven's forest floor 
of litany and eulogy; a simple song 
of the thing of things, my love.