Joy Leftow


I feel my heart beating as one with his
I watch him play melodica in an ecstacy
Bare-chested and sexy playing his music spitting
His rhymes oozing through his craziness at different times

I brush my teeth to keep up with his sweetness
I watch us as we become our poetry, our art
We write poems on each other’s hearts
My life is flooded with a torrential word rain
I don’t care who understands the way I feel when I’m in his hands

Our hearts changing along with our minds
My brain is turned off and I am turned on
I feel insane… insane in the membrane of my brain
Conversations become pregnant with poetic concussions

We fill the air with words
We rhyme or don’t in the spheres of time
I watch my lover become his poetry, he writes
It as he lives and breathes it, he become his pen

One continuous therapy session from sun-up to sun down
Our best poems are the ones we don’t write
The ones we spit from our lips
While making love slamming our hips
Poetic concussions become repercussions
Created in the scarlet vacuum blast of all time

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