Sonnet III: Secret

For this thou speak, though doubtful would suppose,
Nor hesitate obliquely to confess.
Regarding friendship still, thou might obsess
Beyond all compass; thrill-swept, as the throes

Wherewith to cloy thyself so rapt, express
Thine own determined joy.  But not oppose
Desire desire‘s object might impose.
Conspired and familiar, this excess:

Unnamed delight, and wicked to implore,
This: framed–as though for art, or to explore,
Or greater havoc know–it would appear
Unleashed, a glow one nary could ignore
In life’s brief curtain: coy, intent, sincere
Thou wouldst covert revere; but not adore.

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:

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Sonnet II: Unleashed

For this I want, though seldom would disclose;
Or hesitate to vaunt, or to posses.
Regarding friendship’s trial, I might obsess
Beyond consideration, while the throes

Wherewith I drown myself… so rapt, bestows
Determination bound.  But not unless
Desired, desire’s object might profess.
Admired and familiar, this repose

I name: delightful, wickedness. Revere
This touch I frame as art, or I implore,
Or even further; know this would appear
Unleashed, to go where one cannot ignore.
Severe and certain, certainly sincere,
Mine own to this explore, but not endear.

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:

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Intro 2: His Form

The human body
Is not an object of shame,
But one of beauty.

Still, so intimate,
That I tend to hesitate,
When I write of it.

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Sonnet I: Mirror

To feel my hand upon a shape, a form
I find familiar in its drape: though known,
It overwhelms my hand by touch alone,
Though sight and sound and scent and savour warm

Me to its thrill, its pleasurable norm,
And call me to its side.  And I alone
May know I should confide in that I own,
And hence am owned by that which I transform.

I feel it know at once, as once I know
The day such stark perfection will arrive.
I know reflexively, almost as though
The figure in the mirror comes alive

And reaches out with anything but this:
A touch of any kind, except a kiss.

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:

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Intro 1: A Wish

Most definitely
Take care, for what you don’t wish,
You might not receive;

And take special care,
For when you make no wishes,
None will be granted.

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Sonnet: Lucky

How can it be that three such friends are blest
With symmetry sublime, doth fit with grace?
What joy, when maketh bonds, that do they see
Such lives so delicately interlace?

So beautifully sinful are they pressed
As each to one another, as they dance;
Yet faithful, and sublime felicity,
Doth somehow over all and each advance.

When first I saw them, to myself, professed
That they, with all my strength, would I protect;
And swore, to this, an oath of secrecy
An any, give me aid, must needs respect;

And thank Whate’er professéd deity
Who brought to light these blesséd, lucky, three.

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