i'm touching her with every surface i can. there are columns of light standing in my palms   this is the place to go on from if i can get there   the way a hand on an arm is a contact that allows a flow so bright so soft it must be fluid love   the downy aura of my hand on him anywhere   lying with him in sun after we went to look at roses, body full of a slightly pulsing white light that is desire satisfied to be desire   waves of invisible light will be running through our chests     this immaterial field of perception   the inside of the body remains unborn, remains as it was a night with the lights of sensation   das fliessende licht           das fliessende licht   your gifts with which you touch me without pause and which cut through all my bones and all my veins and all my flesh   the art she sought was not a communication but a reception   as the sun shines into water and yet leaves the water undisturbed