all is up.
a dreamy boy fills your legs
with such a torso-
he acts like your tongue is hard candy-
and the crust in your eyes is cinnamon.
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Tickle your toes. . .
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July 12th My love's hands and eyes so full of surprise! he sees nothing wrong with giving me a synthetic strawberry.
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confession is all: it is what my poetry is, and that is my life.
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wide-eyed and curious, he peeks from his shell with seaweed speckles, where 8 monarch butterflies landed permanently. he puts his footing on...
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Ah, 7. The number in question. During this process of developing my first full-length work of prose, and a memoir to boot, I have considered...
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driving home from the farmer's market- I can't see anything- through this storm- I come home to sleep- with you-rest in your arms fu... -
when our bodies clasp each other my heart lights a beach bonfire- and my toes forever step in it's embers.
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motionless sap. ogling your shadow, you have much thinking to do. has the potassium kicked you in the arse yet-and got you going? you a...
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there ain't no other place like you to roam. where I dug in my heels and said "No, I won't come home!" Dancing in the warb...
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At age 25 for Sir John Donne Down went San Felipe. Crimson and pale, rippling, clinging to it's mist. Oh, how that flagship hurled itsel...
Poets United Contributor
well....gooooood morning indeed. a very graceful description of such an intimate moment, thanks for writing
ReplyDeleteLol...
ReplyDeleteYour dreamy boy is getting all blushed out here. He knows he doesn't compare to the foxy fantasy lady he has in his hands right now.
ReplyDeleteLOL...wow.
ReplyDeletemmm...perfect. delicious little piece!
ReplyDelete:)
ReplyDelete