sex

Pale lips flutter alight,
Mouthing phantom praise, saxophone coos.

The flesh hung from supple
Cords, taut and handy,
Brown and luxurious.
Molded of wet clay,
Glistening and heavy, pressed
By gravity onto textured chairs.
I felt the compulsory
Touch of thickly rolled
Thighs against me.
The glint of the onyx eyes
From under lashes and hair
Signaled something like the
Bittersweet tin of semen.

Hair bobbed and framing her
Eyes like the flaps of a tee-pee.

Her lips are soft, full, and round and
Press softly into crevices and trace
Hills and valleys leaving waxy trails of
Lipstick and the texture of her lips
Like fingerprints Identifying the
Writer of the letters

I noticed the silver tin wrapper of
The Lifestyles condom you hid in
Your transparent Armani handbag.

I sat there supposing
That the foil would
Open for my use-- its
Silken present my
restraint.

A centrifugal head-spin,
A cowering dyspepsia of spiny
Thoughts and dissections
Pitches me forward.
She parts me easily
And plunges in with barbed wire
And bottle cap love.

A hateful lovemaking:
Golden fog perfume and full lips,
Shimmering gold skin appeals,
Then cuts -- bleeds
Long and red down my back.

Flesh grows hard and white around
The blackened blade in my back,
The jagged handle protrudes. Still,
I am unable to remove it.

Agony. Ripping pain,
An arched back,
A howling scowl,

A large wound, open and fresh,
Dappled by its own spittle,
Reminds me of the rich
Imported soil of a garden.

Moist and funky,
A steam bath awaits
When ground opens.
Rivulets of murky water

Collect at the bottom
Of each scoop;
Warm loam appears to pulse
With eyeless worms

That free with each dig --
Veiny, watery.
Open wounds give under fingers,
Dirty nails -- fresh soil too --

Marrow laden bones
Like thick thirsty tree roots
Stop scalpels from sinking
Straight through to China.

the subtle innuendo ending all innuendos. she is the only friend of yours, red, who thinks you're good enough for her. she is terribly beautiful and where were you all day. down by the river, with me. on the shiny meniscus skittering like a water bug, the oar legs the hull the awkward bodies, pressing out and over, making wakes enough that their dancing plays the pond's ripples into a watery fractal. watery fractal. dowse. how clean is the clarity? this water in which my oars dip. the water through which i cut, the water which slaps the hull like a drum. playing my vessel. a vessel. to be in a vessel, to be your vessel, to let you be my vessel. to enter and expose, the folds of flesh opening and closing around like the water taking in my oar, like the water buoying my blue kayak. slapping its hull, slapping its hull, playing like rhythm drum beats in various paces, various movements with the wakes and infinite universal effects of some butterfly or another. the long white translucent fish bloated on the surface. the foamed water way up the source, the warm water running down my arms as i move the oars through the clarity. how clean am i? how clean is this? the pizza i consume, feeling grit on my hands, in my mitts, from bike grease and potomac. will i die? will worms form. yet the way the soft fleshy folds of the river take me into her, slap against the bow as my arms strain towards the limestone granite white hallowed hollowed monuments washed with evening light and the inert gassy spots, the indigo, the saffron, the blues and yellow of my living.

I complain of your smell, like phlegm,
and the humid cough from between lips,
but I reek like corpse, socks, and it
all collects between my rubbing thighs.
Oh yes -- I am a man -- I am allowed
to exude like the backfire of a Packard
or the great green billows of some stout
Cuban stogie rolled tight by hand.

The green screen was hazy
from the grease upon my
brow when I sat there before
checking my awk file.

It kept on jamming up so
I tool a breather and sat down
to read some pages from a
fat book on UNIX.

I kissed your armpit and a wave of your body crashed
And told me of you, although you were right there --
I could have asked.

That tender spot can't breathe all day
Because we never hang from or lie against trees
With our fingers meshed behind our heads anymore.

Bound in cloth with arms down and rubbing,
You musk -- the scent is you and I can inhale so deeply
I taste salt and the pool on your skin and in your hair.

Before Sex
the condom can only be 
used once be sure that the penis is completely 
dry before putting on the 
condom use a new condom every time you have sex

before foreplay before 

penis 

gets anywhere near any 

body opening 

(to avoid exposure to any body fluid that can carry infection) 

handle condom gently put condom on as soon as the 
penis 
is hard the condom has a pointed tip so it is 
easy to know which way to put it on be sure this 
tip is on the outside hold the 
condom 
directly against end of hard penis squeeze 
the pointed tip so no air is trapped 
inside unroll the condom all the way down to the 
hair

use condom

After Sex

for added safety hold the 
condom in place on penis to avoid spilling 
semen 
turn and move completely away before 
taking the condom off hold the open end of the 
condom near the hair and gently 
peel it down off the penis 
then slip the condom off throw the used condom away and 

no more sex without a new condom 

if a condom breaks and semen spills 

don't panic 

but quickly wash semen away with 
soap and water

The calorie count of sperm is minimal
To be sure, if not nonexistent.
And I can't understand when you take
it to the hilt -- that which has been
in a sling of cotton, sweated upon,
spicy like vinegar -- you cannot also
accept the gift of come, like oysters
kept fresh in their shells, only to
slide down a little salty from the sea.