pollen from thought to thought
until “The” thought
fingers stroke where speech breathes
to where smells migrate
and yawns and stirs the lover
with infant’s eyes on a date with night
draw passion into syringe
stab into mind
and hew the tourniquet
thy bosom
the sun
flash flood
then drought in soporific beam
loujen haxm'Yor 
Beautiful poetry !!
Thank you, fellow poet.
Art
You are very welcome 🙏🏼
Yes, I agree. It’s beautiful poem, but being a visual guy, I do also very much enjoy the lovely image.
Many thanx for your visit, Otto, and relishing the visual side of this post.
Art
Very beautifully written!
Thank you, Cherie. Something I discovered amidst my long buried archives before my blogging days.
Art