~
I cast my net
                  into the tributary

and release into you, a seasonal swim,

I give to you a mother's color,
        as you recite
        infant hymns,

                    you're a bleeder
on the days sunfire meters out its origin,
                    you're my river

free and clear from the grip

      of anchorage,

                         my river,

drifted on to wherever
                       moon wishes glister
~

Many men make declarations of love when they want to make love,

But rare is the man whose love remains true

when the consequences of ******* are brought to his attention.

beau·ti·ful
/ˈbyo͞odəfəl/
adjective

1. pleasing the senses or mind aesthetically.
"beautiful poetry"
Similar: attractive, pretty, handsome, good-looking, etc.
Opposite: ugly

2. of a very high standard; excellent.
"she spoke in beautiful english"

𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗽 𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘃𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗮 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗸𝘀 𝗹𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗽𝗼𝗲𝘁𝗿𝘆.

the inside of a woman's ****** is full of verses that you'll forget your name. stop telling me that woman's fallopian tube is only the meeting place of a ***** and an egg cell because metaphors and punctuations develop there to create pulchritudinous metrical-composition.

𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗽 𝘀𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘀𝗲𝘅 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗮 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗮 𝗯𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝗼𝗳 𝗽𝗼𝗲𝘁𝗿𝘆.

the moans and groans implanted on each other's ears will create proses and poetry, the handprints on the wall, the clothes you both threw on the floor, and the smiles and giggles you threw up create poetry that only you and your lover can read.

𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗽 𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗮 𝘄𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻 𝗶𝘀𝗻'𝘁 𝗮 𝗽𝗼𝗲𝘁𝗿𝘆.

                       [ the space between her thigh
                          the gap between her teeth
                             the veins on her arms
                            the marks on her belly
                         the darkness of her brows
                      and the bristle on her armpits
              i'm telling you that these are parts of poetry ]

Thanks!
You really showed me who's in charge
As I now deal with this goey, thick discharge

And you really caused me to consider castration
As days pass by while dealing with painful urination

Thanks alot!
Your moves were all really beautiful spectacles
So much so that I now have painful testicles

We were kissing, licking, twisting and twitching
I guess that explains the severe **** itching

Thanks, but
You do show room for great improvements
This I ponder while having unusual bowel movements

You do know that this might cause us to divorce?
I'm just so sick and tired of having painful *******

But you still think you're all that and endlessly gloat?
Hah, Id do the same thing, but I've got a sore throat

But Thanks
You've molded my spirit animal into a ******
Am I going crazy or have I contracted a fever?  

I guess I'm just another one of your victims
I wish I was lucky with no noticeable symptoms.

Oh well!

I guess that's it girl, I guess I'll see ya
Thank you again, for giving me gonnorhea!

I want to scale your every inch
From head to toe, mouth to chin
Your arms against my heart as they clinch
Sending shivers down under your skin

To grasp your neck & take you whole
Ravish your senses as you endlessly moan
As I explore your body & take my leisurely stroll
I take you down an alley alone

Raw passions threaten to explode
An insatiable feast
You scream out our safe code
Piercing warmth  
As our bodies sin
You finish, before I even begin.

The more I undress you
The more you are in light
As the half-burnt moon come out from the clouds
It fell on your rising ******* in my hand
Then slide across the undulations
Down to the river
From where rises the gypsy madness and the wild smell of a primitive surrender
Oracles are born then
I can hear them, even you
As we make love
In our body dances
The Mediterranean wine.

Salve
by Michael R. Burch

(for the victims and survivors of 9-11)

The world is unsalvageable ...

but as we lie here
in bed
stricken to the heart by love
despite war’s
flickering images,

sometimes we still touch,

laughing, amazed,
that our flesh
does not despair
of love
as we do,

that our bodies are wise

in ways we refuse
to comprehend,
still insisting we eat,
drink ...
even multiply.

And so we touch ...

touch, and only imagine
ourselves immune:
two among billions

in this night of wished-on stars,

caresses,
kisses,
and condolences.

We are not lovers of irony,

we
who imagine ourselves
beyond the redemption
of tears
because we have salvaged
so few
for ourselves ...

and so we laugh
at our predicament,
fumbling for the ointment.

Keywords/tags: 911, war, survival, survivors, recovery, love, *******, ***, tears, redemption, bodies, flesh, touch, caresses