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Only God can make a tree

In the early evening, a storm approaching, we open the window and feel the crisp air fill the room, the sweet smell of a cool humidity, the sudden gusts that precede the calm before the storm, we stand at the window, our frocks billowing in unison, collapsing cleaner and cooler on our skin, the young oak next to the window determined not to bend in the storm, an adolescent imitation of its elders, the lights flicker out, lightning in the distance, the thunder a long time coming, as long as it takes my hand to find your waist, your hip to find my hip, my kiss to find your breast, thunder, eyes wide open, a light kiss in the light breeze, the calm is upon us, we decide to make love.
I spread your legs, my chest heaves its thrill, trillions of cubic tons of night air shift their weight, your smile flashes, there is lightning, the tree thrashes a long limb frantically against the window pane, I bend to you, the tree bends too, my penis hovers over your mound, the roots of the tree deep in the earth hold it upright, thunder, my heart beating next to your beating heart, your arms rise, the tree stands tall and straight, you are smiling, the waters of our mouths mingle, the rain falls sudden and warm, your nipples tremble as my kiss nears, the curtains thrust themselves into the room, I am deep inside you, you hold me there, the tree does not bend, the earth is unmoved though wet, the fine mist of blown rain covers my bare back, the storm gathers its intensity, a torrent of water thrown at the window, into the lightless cavern of the interior, a lamp falls but does not break, you knit an expression with your eyes, attentive, serious, clouded by an internal tumult, the storm is furious, but cannot move the earth, water flows in every direction, down from the heavens, down the smallest rill, between your legs, the earth pushes up into me, pushing flowers up into the rain, the raging sky met with beauty rising from the soil, I push deeply into you, give it to me, give it all to me, and you do, I want it, and you give it to me, to yourself, you open to me, your vaginal lips pressing out, wet on my testicles, the kiss of your sex on mine, opening yourself until I come into you and out of you comes beauty, a rainbow between our legs, the storm subsides, I fall limp against you, the rain ends, the roots of the tree hold on tight deep underground, then relax in the moist earth, and I love you, I love you, I love you.

I have been experimenting with writing very short erotic pieces (prose poems might be a good name for them). The following is a fragment from an unpublished novel, but I am wondering if it is possible to publish a great many short pieces and find an audience for them. Bernda is not a misprint. Her mother was dyslexic, and she will be the female lead if the series ever gets produced. [HR][/HR]

Bernda and I make love to one another. Make love as in emotional awe, feverish in limb and heart. We speak little, and pass easily from one kiss to another, one caress to another; each of us surprised by the very things we expect. My hand rests on the boundary of her buttock and thigh, hers on my chest with fingers extended into my underarm, then my hand beneath the swell of her breast, hers flat and warm below my belly button, then her fingers on the flesh beneath my scrotum, her index finger at the boundary of that crinkled flesh, her thumb above my penis. She frames my symmetry; her other hand makes warm circles above my pubic hair. I sink into reverie, rise into excitement, passive under her touch, comforted and stimulated. I let my jaw slacken, release tension in all my muscles. I burn brightly. I moan softly. Her mouth, wet and complex, is over mine. I breathe her breaths; we let the looseness of our cheeks accept the penetrations of tongues. I am lost, lost in the forest of the night; her hands clasp my face in a clumsy fever while her hips slide over mine with grace. My lips negotiate their surrender to hers; there is a crease in the smoothness of the sheet. I feel an impulse, no a pulse, a pressure, please, please let me touch you there, help me touch you there, there where I cannot quite reach, no, stop, no don’t stop. An animal roars in the night; there is heat in my loins; it boils in me; it churns and burns inside me then flows like ice and fire down a long channel into you.