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Bill Wolak

Bill Wolak is a poet, collage artist, and photographer who lives in New Jersey and has just published his eighteenth book of poetry entitled All the Wind’s Unfinished Kisses with Ekstasis Editions. He has been a featured poet at The Mihai Eminescu International Poetry Festival in Craiova, Romania; Europa in versi, Lake Como, Italy; The Pesaro International Poetry Festival, Pesaro, Italy, The Xichang-Qionghai Silk Road International Poetry Week, Xichang, China, The Ethnofest, Pristina, Kosovo, the Chengdu International Poetry Week, Chengdu, China, and the International Poetic Conference, Poznań, Poland. Recently he was awarded the Grand Prize for Poetry at the the 2022 International Poetry Festival Mihai Eminescu, Craiova, Romania.


I want to explore your entire body with kisses,

kisses thirsty as light, kisses that open the wind.

And I want my lips to excite your shivering body

with an insatiable delirium that invites more kisses,

kisses brief as a smile passing through lightning,

kisses reaching inside you deeper than silence,

breathless kisses that leave your lips still moist with tomorrow,

kisses that arouse the haunted silk of your breasts,

kisses that make your scars sing, dazzling kisses blind as ecstasy,

kisses that make you writhe and shudder then squeeze me tighter,

desperate kisses that stun the flesh, awaken the muscles,

sink down into the blood, and course through your tingling body,

indiscriminate kisses down your stomach and up your thighs,

kisses like a bouquet of roses sweeping over tempting nakedness,

kisses that polish the swirling whirlpools of your flesh,

kisses long as summer, kisses for beginning a journey.

The Shower

The first time you pulled me

into your steaming shower

with only the hot water streaming,

I thought our bodies would be scalded.

But with your flesh pressed against mine,

the pain dissolved as my hands explored

your skin that was pale as fog

rising just to the cliff edge.

Holding your slippery body,

my mouth found yours

under the steaming spray,

and your kiss soothed the heat

out of my skin like flames licked by rain.

Now when I need to remember you,

I stand in the shower under the hottest setting,

and in the gushing, burning surge,

I can feel you once again

pressed against me like roots

suddenly tightening in a tree

split by lightning.

In the Silence Between Love Songs

I miss your body

sliding over mine

sleek as lightning

with your hips tilted

a little toward delirium.

I miss the hint of dawn

in your fingernails

and the dwindling moonlight

of your hair.

I miss the arching

of your long back

smooth as a snow heron’s

neck feathers

and your upturned

legs kicking at the

ceiling when I slip my tongue

inside you

I miss your blue eyes

where I lost the sea

and your broad shoulders

pressed against my back

while I dreamed.

But I miss you most

in the silence

between love songs.


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