The night is relentless
Leaves whispering secrets to the breeze
Stardust masquerading as moonlight
Fluttering wings grasping at the wind
The imminent morning hidden by ominous clouds
Yet the night is relentless
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Touch me now
Let me know that I’m the one
Show me how
Lovemaking should be done
Teach me
All the things you think you must
Then satisfy
My burning, raging lust
Hold me
Tenderly and near
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As a pussyologist
I am often asked,
“What is a perfect pussy?’
Great Question! To
which I reply:
Perfect can only exist
where there is a standard
for comparison and a
way of determining what
that standard is: A is
perfect when compared to Z;
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When the sword blossoms
And the heart runs cold,
When men cease aspirations
And everyone grows old.
When nothingâs given love
When nothingâs borne anew,
Only then, my love, then
Is when Iâll part with you.
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Do you remember?
I ask that question
Only
Of those under
A blue moon, lost between
Here
And
There. Do you remember?
A parcel of
Moonlight cascading across
Your memories.
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She walked through life for many years
Wearing a cloak
Of pain and abuse
Sorrow and neglect

As each year passed
The cloak grew heavier and thicker
As layers
Of anguish and hateful words
Lies and tears
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Craving the taste
On my tongue,
Creaming me as I
Kiss it deeply.

Sliding my lips as he
Undulates the
Crimson tip into me,
Knowing that he will
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“He doesn’t listen to me”
quivers, her collagen lips
stamping, ruby heels
an exclamation point
for her crisis
I don’t hear her either
although I pretend
with a nod
a sympathetic smile
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I can’t recall a time in my life
I’ve felt so much stress
nevertheless
I maintain composure.

I’ve allowed her have her way with me
she signs my paycheck
and I must be able
to put on the table
food for my daughter.
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She fits me like a glove
My secret love beneath
As tight as can be

She is my secret love
My love a warm sheath
To me she is lovely

Giving her pleasure
To my secret love
Is what I like to do
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Dancing in Spring to starry night sighs,
I wonder: Do you have eyes?
Are you a shadow from my past, here to condemn me?
Or merely the reflection of forgotten guilt, here to bury me?

Walking hand in hand in August, when leaves begin to cry,
Is your blood in my heart our final lie?
I’m tired of denying a past deed.
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Warm breath grazing
Swollen pink lips
Opened flower petals
Dripping luscious nectar
Tongue tip exploring
Stirring inner fires
Body trembling wildly
Sweet juices flowing
Thirst drinking deeply
The taste of you
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“Bittersweet Scenes from a Life In Progress”
So many things I thought I’d forgotten
were being brought back to me tonight in a deluge of memory-
Trace amounts of my childhood,
like eating Smartys until the sugar burned my throat
and learning the the meaning of words like
“epilepsy” and “divorce”
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She choked in froth
her lips a blood laced origami
words spread in red threads
bubbling as she breathed
a poetry so pure, so true it flowed:
“Dammit, dammit, God…”
Almost in rhyme, a rhythm
of hate, of fists and teeth
carving her mouth, as lips whispered
“Help me, help me, God help me.”
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You created me
With the sound of your voice
The touch of your hand
The warmth that was at once fleeting and all consuming
You created the girl
The child that wished so desperately for approval
The woman grew from there
Wanting
Waiting
Hoping
You created the burning fire
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