Without any preconception
nearly without notice
the sublime mystery of touch
falls upon my hungry skin
and i am blessed,
irresistable,
luminous.

How do i presume when the tables turn?
Left untouched, what is the chance
of survival?
How can i get the maximum volume of touch?
Why must there be "a time to refrain from embracing?"
That lyric isn't even musical.
Why all this fucking resistance?

how easily i lose my small faith.
how often i doubt the self sustaining abundance of my mother galaxy.
i forgot the strong sustaining touch of her elemental body,
as i am pulled and pushed and heaved upon,
by the vast undulating spiral of her body,
which suspends me in the steady din,
of her creative dance:
innocent,
burning,
irresistable

Touch then, is a coupling of sensory upload
skin on skin-
breath of desire-
the quickening of our celestial ancestors,
the satisfaction of our neighborhood,
the Milky Way
crying satisfied tears
for our passionate
tactile pleasure.