little throttle, the impulsed danger of
your noose is slung my neck 'round
tighter firmly, the string is bound
hungry: i slobber at liquorice glove

tangy sweet, its dew, fragrant shoves
blue jeans through luscious seep
its serious caffeine on which unsleeps
i, sup at pink split cotton white as dove

feverish the kitten wet shudders love
shaken flutter, it's fur shortly cropped
exactly few my cheeks roughly slop
pressed hurting, skin flakes removed of

still i(andpressharderdo)my face eagerly trips

            their between open wanting

little throttle's impulsed dangerous hurter

brittle day,
the singular flake
of your naked
obtuse ******* are
fine, "what dandies,
thick, toppled in
golden and tipped
in lightest, pink skin,"
conquers men and
flesh divine; the radiant
twin prongs of your
chest are rich, swollen,
and my fingers laid 'tween
them wreak of mint, lavender,
and they taste like warm blood
that i can barely fit inside (but
you like like it and drag me into
snarling night
                          (

knees go weak summer very smile

                                                                    

                    spUrts

over: two legs, skinny hips, a mile
of stomach, daintily *******, neck
and a chin(also)above sprouts a                nose

nice how it flush face with
saliently bursts ivory white 'neath
limpid fissures of greenly sharp roundness

(eyes)that flutter, held by cheeks as
smooth and innocently as driven
snow sparkles just a bit in the summer
between the **** hillocks of my
thighs a mouth pristinely admits

      me

7 days for 1nce a month you're vermillion

taste like in the middle of copper thighs

2 lips magneticly parted

by 2 lips 1 tongue

and weeks a year you're like iron
and salt and copper reddish between
hunks of femurs pours a 12 times

dear, the crawling vapid sweet acidity
of 7 mouthfuls of queer drink surge
delightfully opaque crimson gallons of

         you

          r clefted

      love h

           eap

                    is



      the best kind of drowned

i have heard sleepness confer with night:

                     GIRLS!

what a boy might, like a boy who works
hard at them, like girls.

                                         A BOY

with tall muscles, who works hard at them,
and would like to glide unvicarious
rills of longingfingers up thighs into
bunches of parting cotton,

it: spring, Tokyo you, by my hip flowered
briefly a thousand, pink petals, slippery
beneath sole the exact strange neon of
lights bore swiftly under darkness our
bodies lightly, into each others, wiggle
heavy lips, and between they(pinkpetals
                                                             slippery)

to seriously know, to consider keenly: my father
dreaming father, lie in my dreams yours, father
lay your fears on me (each timber yoke, to my
shoulders father) each limber fantasy, father
bind to me they all and sleep father; lie in
me your hope, your heart, father place in me
by hand worn, the distinct immediate light
of strength, father, pass into one long night