sordid love

worship my honey juices red hot sausage man
smear drool on my rose petal leg
franticly finger-fiddle my mad fluff
lick me tongue me manipulate me
whisper I love you
woman
you
you
you

Leonardo's Lover

Oh
Oh
Oh now
Oh now please
Oh now please let me
Oh now please let me come to you
Oh now please let me come to you never ever let me go




(see also Ratio)

caprice

gamelan tinkling as I exit
hot metal cools down
as I do
returning to my own bed

you, always ready for my touch
wait quietly
start without question
when I say stop
you obey
unaware of the pleasure
you bring me

I will take good care of you

I hold the key

Beloved
be assured
even after all
we have been through
despite myriad offers
& opportunities otherwise
I would rather with you
within me
Dissolve
into
us

delicious revelry

she was thinking
but not about poetry
her eyes glazed
lips curled
into a sweet smile
mmm...
hunger
desire
longing
what could satisfy
her hot cravings?
mmm..
an enormous
pink prominence
tipped
with thick white cream...
she knew she had
to have it
now
when it came
frothy liquid
ran down
its smooth hard sides
mmm...
delicious

and if you didn't
want strawberry
they also came
in chocolate
and vanilla

reality a formality...

now that
you took a right
turning south
I a left
north
as a weeping sky forced
our rapid goodbye

not wanting to part
at that moment
I pulled you around
magnetized
like the needle
on a compass

soon
your headlights
were there behind me
followed me
all the way home

in my driveway
pounding rain
suddenly seemed
less impediment
than lubricant
moistening
our thirsty lips

I steadied
my shivering hands
pressed key
into lock
let you in
my front door

once in
in the dark
we found
each other
again

completely

Metafarcical

At our first kiss,
Love miraged
within the dessert
of my inner landscape.

I teased you
with jasmine,
bad language,
and a winter bed.

You tempted me
with unclosing eyes,
strange food,
and legs like young rubber bands.

Together we crossed
the Valley of Indecision,
swam in the River of Passion,
exhausted;
threw ourselves
on fertile banks
of Imagination,
before we could be swept out
to the Sea of Despair.

Our love was like the last cycle
on a Merry-go-round,
no matter how hard
we spurred those horses
they left us where they would,
high or low,
laughing at us,
as we reached
for another brass ring.