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By J.P Amos
May 9, 2002
The Iranian

Passion frenzied fingers

starved and ravenous for raven hair.

Shyly hesitant, yet arduous

for the rawness

of that first delicious touch.




Aching for the taste

of snow drift skin,

salacious lips slick-moist

in a river of dreams


(kissyoulightasair then heavyaswinterrain.)


Enthralled by a bright soul shining

through stygian ink swirls.

Zoroastrian fires flaming,

make me your twilight slave.

©2002 J.P Amos

Comment for The Iranian letters section
Comment to the poet
J.P Amos

By J.P Amos

Eastern cuisine
For Sheila


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