GAaa

Some dick is reposting all of my content on his blog spot blog. I posted a comment to him to stop and flagged him. Grrrr…..

what else can I do?

A Flazh of Light, a Buzzing

and that was all. No lights,
no sweet hum of household
appliances. A flash of light

when I was alone
Just before dark. I saw it only
out of the corner

of my eye. I was drawn towards
it and repelled. I wanted
to see it better, its color and

shape. I wanted to see,
but I knew it might hurt.
A flash of light,
a buzzing
and that was all.

excuses

It is too hot to write,
and my ex best friend
is talking about me to
people she knows I do
not like,

my dog is chewing
on things she shouldn’t,
and I am hungry,
I should just go and get
in the shower.

I need to go for a run,
or go and clean
the dishes
in the sink

there is money I have yet
to spend and
my sleep has not
been deep

I cannot sit so long
at the desk
and I do not
know what to say.

I’ll find
a way to write
some other day.

Hmmm

Lately, all the searches for me are boring and un inspiring. I miss the days of “I miss you and the flowers growing out of your ass.”

You’d think a poem about fisting would up the ante here a little. Maybe I need to write about Anal sex, too. Hmmm…. BDSM, anyone?

a note

I love the image of a cheap plywood altar railing, I must do more with that, don’t you think?

a lover’s lament at not being able to wait

I took you there
on the floor, the carpet
like little claws
digging at
my skin.

I pushed you
down before
you had the chance
to shut the door

and you wrapped your
arms around me,
and held me close
as I moved my hands over
your body

pressing mine against you
pressing myself
into you.

I took you
there and then
though I knew
you did not
feel the same
as I did.

When her Jesus Came

I got saved, throwing myself on the cheap ply-wood altar railing
along with a girl who I practiced making out with in dark basements.

I’ll never forget the catch in my grandmother’s voice that night
after the christmas pagent, in her car, alone. She said that she’s always
worried that no one else could come with her

to heaven. Now I would. I had no idea what it was
that I had done, but I was pretty sure that when

her Jesus came, I’d go with the other-girl kissing,
screaming, cursing, fighting, enraged, sad, masturbating,

rock-music listening masses. And I was happy for it.

The Fisting Poem

It’s pretty mundane, really

The Fisting Poem

Because I can,
I will write a poem
about fisting.

I will tell you
what it is
to reach inside

another person, to
streatch a small
important part

of another so it fits
every curve of a small
important part of you.

Because no one can
ever tell me not to,
I can tell you
how to fold your fingers
into your palm,

how to drip thick
clear liquid over your lover,
how to entice, sliding

in and out of her wetness,
how to live and breathe
inside her, how to push

your hand inside her knuckles
first and slide it out, how to pump
from your shoulder, how
to flip her over and suck on her
as you invade and plunder.

I can tell you how
her body bends,
how her back
arches, how she moans

and rolls her head.
The things I can tell you.

In the groove

Why is it that I always hit my poetic stride after a time away with a graphic poem about sex? Last night, I wrote the first poem I really liked in months and months, and it was about (close your eyes if you are sexually squeemish) … All ready for it? Fisting.

I am a poetic oddity.

The center

This is a draft of a poem that I started writing while running this weekend.

I
Reaching for your center,
she was always trying
to pull from you

some sort of bone, some
piece of cartilage

something hard and real
of you to call
her own. Life taught

her that she could
push past eager resistance

to get to the warmest
part of your body. She could
slide up into you

but she could never
take anything

as a reminder
of the places
she has been.

II
When you told her
it was over, you made
sure to use
the nastiest words.

Anyone you had fucked
like that was sure
never to be offended.

III
You wake at night
and feel something inside
you still, and wonder -

She never managed to take
anything from you, but might
she have left something

there, at your center? Are you
a clam, enveloping whats left
of her in whats best of you

so that it will not hurt so much?