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(I joined an “Erotic Poetry Reading Group” that gathered every month for two years and a few months. I'm not particularly inclined toward writing sexually explicit poetry, so this was an interesting edge to explore: what happens when a romantic demisexual writes for an audience of libidinal kinksters? … part silly, all visceral, zoomed away from the head and down into the organs. It was a delightful adventure) - 2026 Sept 8 |
But may I keep… what abstinent monks realize?
That a handshake tingles, That the world rolls in intercourse.
We are an open channel.
The rain kisses me lightly, mixing with salty clay
On an orange gray beach.
The music kisses me, tinny through car speakers
And crackling in/out through forest roads.
The cup kisses me, spilling just a glaze, sweet and warm
From a well hot and deep—
The ghost of pale fingertips on my passport,
The scratch of metal into a dark tree,
The slow splash of lakewater over partly dissolved bricks;
From behind plastic glass,
across unknown time,
over a thin bannister;
Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me…
“Welcome. Checking in?”
“Yes, Katie. I reserved a half hour ago. A queen bed.”
“Oh, yes—your reserved the Jacuzzi room.”
“Why do you say it like that?”
“Nothing, just—it’s the jacuzzi room. 127, here’s your key.”
“Holy shit, it’s half of the bedroom.”
“I need to get this plaster off my skin.”
“Do you want bubbles?”
“I think this one bottle is enough—“
“No, I want all the bubbles!”
“Oh wow.”
“Okay, I think you were right about the soap.”
Did you know, every hour, men produce 35-50 sperm?
Little aliens hiding behind a blood/testes barrier,
So immune cells won’t hunt them
And, after about 72 days,
If we don’t let them out, they’ll degrade and reabsorb.
But! A decreased risk of prostate cancer,
If we regularly release that horde.
So in my imaginary health class,
I look into my own young eyes,
And say “Cum a lot, with people you love.
A word from the old and wise.”
Becoming
Elemental:
Climb
Onto
Me
Indecently, “
Nice...
Gamete-you.”
