A LOVE NEST

We give up our single beds.
Somewhere in the house,
somebody
is testing your earlobe
with her teeth.

Somebody sweats.

Remember
that accordion
in the upstairs back bathroom.
How it eyed us both
from the bidet.

HOLY PALMERS

For saints have hands that pilgrim's hands do touch,
and palm to palm is holy palmer's kiss.

Wet hands under running water.
Take a measure of soap.
Work into hands, palm to palm.
Right hand over back of left and vice versa.
Rub palm to palm, fingers interlaced.
Back of left fingers to right palms,
fingers interlocked and vice versa.
Rotational rubbing of right thumb clasped in left hand
and vice versa.
Left wrist with right hand and vice versa.

SEX SCENE

At first I tried simulating wanking with my cock
balled up in my hand like it was still soft
and I was working it hard. My hand was sweaty
from the heat of the lights and the flaccid muscle
squirmed in the grease. I thought of slugs.
It helped me avoid an embarrassing erection.
The director was asking me to stare
straight up her skirt and, although she wore
knickers, they had ridden to the left, exposing
her dark shaved labia. I still don't know
to this day if she had arranged it or if
it was chance let me glimpse. I kept on hiding
it in my palm for three more takes. She was nervous.
I found my eyes drifting from her cunt
to the corners of her mouth. The fascinating tremble
of her lips. What was she expecting?
I was twice her age. A lumbering legend
massaging my modesty. Ingenue. She was sliced
and garnished, served on a mattress. I let go.
Thought, what is a 43 year old man doing
being bashful? If I was taking her girlhood
I wouldn't be shy. I fell on her squeals
with my hands and thighs, pressing her open
like in real life. I'm no tit man. My method
is to lick and kiss their throats. I won't lie,
I came close to fucking her for real twice,
but in the end you're just humping the air,
dissatisfied and sweaty. After the cut,
we were awkward. I brushed some straw
from my ass and hauled my trousers up.
I offered my hand and she took it.
Hers were small like a child's, engulfed as I pulled.
Later we'd be  filming a breakfast
scene in the cottage. Bacon and sausages.
She was straightening her skirt and blouse
as I walked off set to my trailer.

PAUL

He is on the phone to Paul,
keeping his conversation all quiet like.
There is a lot he don't know,
that he mumbles.
He wants him to get his ears pierced,
these little lobes.
He wants him to go holes in his ears
and go down to Hull.

He is so young and beautiful
I want to have sex with him.
I want to be all over his bones
and nibble
them small lobes.
I want to go all holes with him
and go down to Hull with him.
To hell with Paul
whoever Paul is.

MIKE MILLER BY PHILIP-LORCA DICORCIA

Mike Miller, 24 years old
ALLENTOWN, PENNSYLVANIA, $25

One of my games -
two telephones
in an abandoned diner
and he picks
the left receiver.

I whisper
him undressed -
his shirt, his jeans, his socks.

From the hotel across the street
I watch him work
his soft cock hard
through Eschenbachs.
I talk him off.

And he hangs up on me.

He'll find 25 bucks in the coin return slot.

JOYSPRICK DREAM

To know someone else beyond love and hate, beyond vanity and remorse,
beyond human possibility almost, is his extravagant desire.


1.


To Bed — To Bed!
About your drawers? This is all nonsense darling.
the last drop of seed has hardly been squirted;
tender, pitiful worship of you.


2.


Write the dirty words big and underline them
and kiss them and hold them
— never never never —
the passion and sorrow and mystery of life
with your hair flying loose, naked,
to make filthy signs;
your long tickling fingers
in the dark at night did your fingers.


3.


Have I shocked you by the dirty things?
To displease you, something trivial even:
Fuck me into you!


4.


Then you were ashamed,
fingers fondling and tickling my ballocks.
I have come and the foolery is over.


5.


I wish you would smack me or flog me?
Are you offended dear?


6.


I dream of you in filthy poses sometimes,
cunt is a mass of slime.
No use continuing.


7.


But make me get myself cured,
(dirtiest are the most beautiful?)
obscene and secret and filthy;
the two parts of your body —
body wriggling wildly.


8.


You hand an arse full of farts that night,
the wet and windy farts I imagine fat wives have,
those heavenly exciting filthy words
— fat and stiff —
feel a man's or a boy's cock
(wants me to roger her arseways)
Now for your questions!


9.


Shit? I wonder how you do it?
Came off through your fingers
in as many new ways as your lust would suggest;
a whorish movement of your mouth.
Shit it down softly.


10.


Even to meet my eyes
my dirty little fuckbird;
obscene word I remember well
you want me to lick your cunt.


The love of my verse
stop with a click of revolver,
dirtiest fucking thing I ever gave you,
little cock at the end of your cunt.


11.


Sudden immodest noise,
hands clutching the round cushions.
"Darling mine, I love you!"
The kitchen table.
"Fuck up, Love! Fuck up, Love!"
Finger or fingers up into
— fuck fuck fuck fuck —
The open shape of your upturned dress,
frigging your cunt in the closet.


12.


My little frigging mistress! My little frigging whore!
Even not in play
your shameless tongue came bursting out,
a whore's glow in your slumberous eyes.
"Do you come in the act of shitting?"
"Hand or hands under?"


13.


Be sure you sprinkle the legs of them.
Slip inside like mice.

VILE AFFECTIONS or A TONGUE TWISTER

for SM

Shut them in,

With their triumphs and their glories and the rest.

Love is best.

— Robert Browning

Lips, interlacing labias with lips, and labias

of lesbians, lipped and licked and interlocked.

The love of lesbians on tongues and lips

and clitoris and clitoris are licked and rolled

like tongues that flit like hummingbird wings

over labia and loll like bodies rolled together,

linked and locked. The legs of lesbians laced

and licked and kissed, the skin, the labia,

the clitoris are kissed and kissed. The love,

that locks the lesbians in linked embraces,

lifts the vulva and the pelvis into orgasm, is Bliss.

HOLY PALMERS

Wet hands thoroughly before applying washing agent.

Rub palm to palm.

Right palm over left dorsum and left palm over right dorsum.

Palm to palm fingers interlaced.

Backs of fingers to opposing palms with fingers interlocked.

Rotational rubbing of right thumb clasped in left palm and vice versa.

Rotational rubbing back and forwards with clasped fingers of right hand in left palm and vice versa.

Rinse and dry hands thoroughly.

CHEATING

I listened hard to the kind of sense he spoke, but crushed
his girlish, goodish moly underfoot — Fuck That!
and became porcine, my swine snout truffling in muck.
There to be unmanned, made animal, anything
furry or feathered in the hot, closed stench
of the pen. Us beasts were brutish, lusty, grunting
in the crush, trampling each other to be first
to the trough, the pile so deep it seemed
there was no end to the udders and hooves,
no up, no down, just the salted taste of hide
bristling over my tastebuds and I thought again
of Hermes; that youthful messenger with the soft,
brown hair on his arms, those sensible brown eyes,
the kind of sense he spoke, the white flower crushed
underfoot, and in this lesson I find my face
buried deep in the anus of a friend, my eyes
screwed tight shut, the tongue take black root:
My head's full of him — These Lies! and truth's
the silent moly flowering in my mouth.

HE COULD HURT ME

He could break me. Take me up
in his arms and throw me or cut me,
stick a knife in my bowel and gut me,
wear leather boots and parade me
around the showground. He could fire me
from a cannon into the mouths
of a gasping crowd, watch them swallow
me down, sneering and cheering. He could
lick me or whip me or beat me or bite me
and I'd never throw the towel in.
I'd give him that. I'd give him that.

ELIOT REFRACTED

At the violet hour other echoes

inhabit the garden; a voice that was broken

with sorrow — a tedious argument of insidious intent.

After the event he wept, forgot

the cry of gulls and the deep sea swell

and, clawing at the pillow slip,

Matthew and Waldo, guardians of the faith,

by sea-girls wreathed converse with spirits

and find themselves disgraced. The vacant

interstellar places between desire

and the spasm held the housemaid

on his knees. The undertaker wiped his feet.

When the police dog returned to his beat

there wasn't a single one left in the street

TULIPS

These tulips remind me 
of your puckering anus,

flowering,

petals peeling back

to the bee tongue.

We are making honey

in the garden of Gethsemane.

Among the hydrangeas

and clematis,

my suckling mouth brings

pollen to your stamen.

I am your child father

my brother my son

and here I betray you

with my kiss. My fist.