I whisper, "I love you, you are mine..."
You whisper," you are my master, my pleasure,
my torment, my happiness.

        Crying was the music of ecstasy, alone
in the world, together  in a different reality. Wrists
and ankles tied with ropes upon our meeting after
so,so many years as our happy tears mixed.

        It is our special manifestation of love as I am
your savior and your executioner with you being
my salvation and sacrifice.

         I watch as your blue eyes darken with carnal
desire upon my entering the room and starring at
you and your naked body with love and desire as
the  room air  fills with steam and  your  scent, a
culmination of wet heat on our bodies as
the moment lasts for hours.

You anticipate the next blow as pain fills the
air in your sobs of rapture as you wriggle under
the whip, begging for mercy as your mouth whispers,
"I love you."

        And I kiss your lather and stroke fresh traces
whispering to you softly,"the past is the past, the
future is ours to take, it is so, so good to see you
again."
                                                                                              Jon York  2020

Inside you

is where I want to

be,

thrusting

within the folds

of your mind

penetrating

the sweet softness

of your soul,

throbbing

as I release my love

deep within you.
                                     Jon York   2019.

I am going to dig through
dumpsters today; alone or
with a fellow aluminum
cowboy. Our treasure is
cans. Thank God for
redemption. Each can is
worth a nickel, and if
we get enough of these
shiny miracles, we can
get a pint of *****,
our oasis in the desert.

I sift through trash bags
full of cat **** and broken dreams.
I find: losing lottery tickets,
broken costume jewelry, unwanted
books, and a ***** magazine.
I examine the jewelry closely,
hoping for a diamond or real pearls;
some silver or gold, something I
can pawn or sell and turn into
liquor- no such luck.
The whole thing smells like
death, and ****, and a
city dump in July.

Sometimes I think it
would be easier to just
quit drinking, but to do it
abruptly could **** me,
the withdrawal seizures can be deadly.
As the sun begins to set
on Iowa City, the sky
looks like a butterfly melting.
I haul my black garbage bag, full
of cans, over my shoulder
down the railroad tracks, and
across Highway 6.
I stop to ***** behind
a building, then wipe my
face and continue to
the store- to be redeemed.