it's in-between the breath,
that silent-turn,
from deep inside,
rolling a-round
with the sound,
until it forms an awe
or wonder, too
that your tongue
inflects a tipping-out,
passing by lips still wet with kiss,
where trembling-air begins
to vortex 'n curl like waves upon a beach,
push'd in inner-ear as ocean sound,
re-sound again as bliss -
and further into this, your whirl'd
of curl'd synaptic-brain,
where lightning sings,
into a flashing of your eyes,
as if an eye could gleam,
between you and your simple dream,
of crystal clear blue-skies...
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