Velvet Elvis

My friend Emily and I wrote this poem together. This is a rough draft, but I sort of love it…

velvet elvis

Rest deep in the field of matte black
plush and dense as Mississippi night;
no screams will jolt you from this
reverie, no girls will faint at your feet
except me, clawing to get behind
the wide gilt frame centered on the wall
to run my fingers thru your hair, to recline
against your muscular thighs, to climb
your twisting legs and scale your hips.

Rest here and wait for me. I will come
to grasp your shoulders, to cling to your name.
I would taste the sugar and the smoke of your mouth,
but when I try to press my lips against yours,
I feel nothing but dust clinging to painted fibers
and the rough places where a painter’s brush
paused, the paint pooling on your bottom lip.
You are all man, rough, hard, surrounded by a sea
soft and impenetrable, velvet waves fading
into a bright white glow at the edges of your face.
I brush one finger along the angle of your jaw,

slowly slide it down the short softness that lies
flat, the revealed triangle of your chest. I step back
and see the gold surrounding, the end of a plush life framed
forever, a bright spot on the dark paneled wall.

Stage fright at the poetry open mic

This is a poem written by Nathan Moore and I over two drunken nights at Larry’s Bar…

Stage Fright at the Poetry Open Mic

Shine on me your blinding light
I’ll twist and fight and still find the sound
at once too fast, too slow. Pain encumbers, but desire
shouts. It’s megaphone fires at my ear.

When I stand in front of you, sweat forms
but when I perform I can’t see. My script leaves me.
My mouth juggles these syllables, my eyes turn you
slant, the say my glasses do. I pinch my nose,
squint, and screw my eyes around that word,
around the world outside this spotlight, the world I’m trying.

Lying like a dog in the scene, I’m telling the truth, though
it’s useless. I’m forcing this beauty down your throught:
meaning is the tonic, and your sonic method met my
architectural wound. Lace up my flesh, run the thread

of your intention through the grommets in my skin. I’m in,
I’m out. Still you shout these asemic billboards. The road hoards
your words. I cannot understand what you want to tell me,
your khole lined eyes convey, then skuttle, sway,
and dart at my teeth. I smile at you and sing from them.

In front of all of them, I’ll flaunt our connection while never letting on.
I’ll go on and this jacket will not fit. We’ll sit and watch your words
squiggle in front, or are they mine, my words, thrown out into the air
are now yours, and I keep them. They’re not yours now. They’re mine.
mine. mine. mine. mine. mine. mine. mine.mine. mine. mine.

ode to lube

What follows is a work of collaborative poetry. I threw down a gauntlet for Dana from my gorgeous somewhere the other day. She is constantly making comments about lube, so I said, hey, lets write a line by line about lube. So, she put up a post on The Poetry Collaborative and off we went to lubesville for the afternoon. Enjoy!!! Also, check out the comments of the original post for our educational and entertaining discussion while writing this together!

ode to lube

between my legs, you work
your moistening mimicry

so I cry at the rhythm
persuaded out of me.

break through resistance
to water-based intimacy.

clear and viscous: do not
abide by those who deny

entry to fingers, to silicone.
without you, we are free

to smell and taste desire
but not to ride the sweet

pulse of another, the fine
caudled intermingling

of bodies pumping toward
a flourish. certain finality

of moaning contractions
flanks muscles and lubricity.

somewhere between echo
and stutter comes release

as one of your loosed droplets
glides down the side of your bottle.

Sex with someone new (final?)

Seriously, This is my final draft… Really! Its another take on the EC poem I wrote with her witchiness The Polka Dot Witch

I will reach for the skin, the flesh of another.
Variety entices, but I always prolong this

yearning for unfamiliar skin, for teeth
nipping away at bits of flesh, discovering
your temptation until it’s impossible to know
time from place, limb from limb. See in me the girl who

runs her fingernails down your spine, presses breasts
against breasts. Hold on to me –
I’m slowly sliding hands up your legs, you
will never guess how much to trust, how long

to stay. Light me with your small flame of a mouth,
the tiniest blaze ignites this pyre and leaves my past
only as ash – use your fingers, mark my face

with sooty stripes. I will take
this warrior stance, this posture of holy
strength and verve. Say my name:

It sparks on your tongue.