Former wannabe badass, postgraduate LUG, dilettante raver, daddy's princess, semi-retired grad student, lousy actress, broke trustfunder, asexual slut, one Martha Stewart coffeemug short of a full set but baby, imma dig that lost fucker out of the back seat of my Elantra yet. And poet.
This is to complain about morning-sex sheets. The cream cheese muffins lightly nuked Couldn’t politely be refused, but Then you go and sit your bare ass down On my side, and I washed these sheets on Sunday. You know how anal I am. And though I roll Sometimes onto the guest side and soak The ghost up of your fleeting heat, I do like to lie here and read, But I hate laying Vogue ...
Added 13 Feb 2014 | Category Erotic Poems
| Votes 15 | Avg Score 4.93
| Views 1,017
| 13 Comments
If I said something before about the plumbing Well, please, kindly disregard any such concern. I won’t bring it up, if it comes up I’ll waive it away For though there is some problem with the drains It really really ruins My peace of mind taking it from behind Hard up against the wall, wet Having to think about fungus spores Gore-green, mustered in flakes shaken loose Or clotting your...
Added 28 Oct 2013 | Category Love Poems
| Votes 12 | Avg Score 4.92
| Views 994
| 8 Comments
There’s next to no sense in anything fun: Whims, like winds, startle roofs with their rages. We’ve liquored and loved, before, till the sun Shushed us off to sleep like sober sages. Quiet, this house now keeps saner hours Where wandered wishes’ eyes I kiss tight shut When, wistful, I wonder upon our bower, That bed, where, lonely, I toss in a rut. No fun! But fitful dreams pen hard demands...
Added 18 Jul 2013 | Category Love Poems
| Votes 21 | Avg Score 5
| Views 1,120
| 16 Comments
I could fuck myself with a smooth-cut stone, Plug my fingers inside some bubbling spring To swallow earth’s squirts or make mountains spew, So greedy my hands now, for you-- and you. With polite purpose I entered the game, Acknowledged set bounds were all for the best. I let myself out when the fucking’s through: Merry chirpers above, I wing off, blue. Light-hearted was I, your...
Added 18 Jan 2012 | Category Love Poems
| Votes 14 | Avg Score 5
| Views 1,051
| 7 Comments
I awake and find you-- same hard-knuckled rapping Of deadened boughs wind-stormed against the pane-- Perched, insolent and knowing, on my mind’s sill, Preoccupied with your thumb, some crumpet-crumb Or, heaven help us, the pungent remains Of an amorous trophy. How’d you sneak past All those cobwebs, I wonder? I’ll make coffee, Wipe the snot from my eyes and try and find Some semblance...
Added 15 Dec 2011 | Category Love Poems
| Votes 5 | Avg Score 4.8
| Views 2,180
| 2 Comments
(a companion-piece to "Ice Elation"; dedicated to sprite, who knows the life of the nymphs and other princesses, and has been owed an ode) * * * * * * * * These be nymphs I see. What sly wizardry, To rapture me down to the bottom of the sea. Adrift in narcotic waves, I reply To all glad tidings with a supple sway. This way, that! Pliant, I parade, a comely crowd‘s Candy willow....
Added 01 Jan 2012 | Category Love Poems
| Votes 5 | Avg Score 5
| Views 778
| 1 Comment
I may have to put on five or ten pounds, I so like this contentment. I like the feel of your belly, sticky, against my skin. You kiss me again, slippy tongue snug beneath my earlobe. Hair fluffs against my throat. Your thigh slides heavy over me, a bother that melts my heart in a puddle, in a place too clear. This is bad. You’re living with your grandparents. You spend too many hours...
Added 30 Apr 2013 | Category Love Poems
| Votes 10 | Avg Score 5
| Views 565
| 10 Comments
Desire makes for a wave-lashed bed On which we writhe and crack and cleave Spritzed and sprayed with sea and sex, Tangled with tidal love we weave With no rest, no respite. Kisses Cross like sodden clouds, an endless Storm of scorching dew. Lust’s nest Leaves its tenants a mucky mess. These sleepless eyes blink leaden lids And greet a score of kisses more. A weary wriggle’s my poor signal...
Added 05 Aug 2011 | Category Love Poems
| Votes 9 | Avg Score 4.78
| Views 966
| 5 Comments
My friends had asked, how was it so, that I had passed From steadfast salutatorian to being Such a promiscuous slut (a redundancy of sorts, but not their words). But I answered so disingenuously And with so politely maintained a pretense Of taking no offense at all: “Oh my God, I know, I am soooo Dissipated now, you would not believe!” Ay, that was my very word: ‘dissipated.’ I think I said...
Added 07 Jun 2011 | Category Love Poems
| Votes 3 | Avg Score 5
| Views 719
| 2 Comments
The thing about insomnia is, your time isn't even Time anymore. Even if you get the same ration of hours, even a couple extra, they've become an inflated foreign currency: you can't buy nothing worth shit with them. I always drift into it, in cycles. I'll have a good week, waking and sleeping like a model citizen, Ben Franklin style. Up at six, bed by nine. It's funny, waking up with...
Added 24 Feb 2012 | Category Novels
| Votes 14 | Avg Score 4.71
| Views 1,446
| 6 Comments
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