my focus, my head
melted like bubble-gum
on a summer pavement, stuck,
fucked by the
catch in my throat,
of your breath,
the taunt of the air
insistent not in every instant,
but every now
and again
pregnant with your smell,
your curve and angle,
hair a curtain of redemption
drawing down, down
on what remains
to me of
myself, whispering
that this is not quite
what Descartes had in mind.
the tenth muse 
Music and movement use both sides of the brain in coordination. Poetry
Wow, that is a powerful poem. I enjoyed reading it. Mind-body separations sounds like a poem a wrote a few days ago. It asks the question about what would happen if I fell between my soul and body!
Dave
http://finepoetry.wordpress.com
scents are intruiging
from what I understand they are the most frequent trigger of memory
it seems for me, especially this time of year they are inherant to a sense of nostalgia
A beautiful flowing out of sensations brought neatly into focus by an excellent last line. You capture that dizziness very well.