janus

Interior ceiling of Castro Theatre.

konchayu

kingdoms

I told no one of our secret kingdom
where fog pours over the teeming legion
I lean on the rail, inhaling the mist
of primeval verdure untouched by the grist,
and while I alone name the hybrid fauna
you lazily soak in a steaming sauna.
A quiet sploosh, "the soap, please, Jordan"
I plunge in my hand, grab your cord in the foam and
am slapped by a rag as you lean back and laugh,
so I slip off my clothes and crawl in your bath.