Wednesday, September 10, 2014

I like the word fuck because of its implications
Fast, sweaty, hard
But also because of the release 
From my mouth and brain
Like a spoken orgasm
Fuck me
it pierces and vibrates
with a concupiscent staccato
it cuts two ways

a sword with no hilt
i overused it once
in callow exuberance

i hope my children
learn to curse fluently
in their mothers tongue

your pixelated breasts
the sweat on my pillow
my fantasy is

only to reach through
the screen to
grasp inside you

and the only word
that will do

as i peel cockles
off the wharf
someday too
the marrow will run dry

from your chalky bones
and pool around your
ankles as grey matter
leaks out your ears
in an encephalitic ooze

i decipher
the voluptuous braille
of your spine's topography
a dream
where i bathe in all
your scented parts

the ocean between us
 i won't




me       clean

Saturday, August 23, 2014

i rearrange my chemistry
like so many chairs

the patio furniture
roosts in my
living room

i've bathed lately
in your lingering scent
on my unwashed sheets

you smell like a woman
who's taken men
inside her and judged them

my desire for you lies
somewhere at the center of
that judgement

the threshing
and winnowing
the yes
and the no
but recently the yes yes yesyesyes

so tomorrow
just fuck me into
that fertile oblivion
i seek where the chairs are all seats
the seats are all thrones

and all the flowers
blooming smell like a
woman who knows