85 Lust and desire poems

Suppose I were to eat you I should probably begin with the fingers, the cheeks and the breasts yet all of you would tempt me, so powerfully spicy as to discompose my choice. While I gobbled you up delicacy by tidbit I should lay the little bones ever so gently round my plate and caress the bigger bones like ivory talismans. When I had quite devoured the edible you (your tongue informing my voice-box) I would wake in the groin of night to feel, ever so slowly, your plangent, ravishing ghost munching my fingers and toes. Here, with an awkward, delicate gesture someone slides out his heart and offers it on a spoon, garnished with adjectives.

I miss the moshpit pushed to the side of the bed. The hard and fast rules, the business, Walking across town the baby’s hand in mine Gave me anxiety Rosado barely mellowed. Who doesn’t love to hear about anxiety. You wouldn’t be too wrong to wake from dreaming Into an amusement park sluice of Rioja Eau de post-Auden thanks a lot Timex hubbub. Those feelings are in their way good luck. I don’t even need a communion wafer To feel the need to broadcast imprecations Fade like a docent as the hedge fund falls.

Fear me, virgin whosoever Taking pride from love exempt, Fear me, slighted. Never, never Brave me, nor my fury tempt: Downy wings, but wroth they beat Tempest even in reason's seat.

blowfish arranged on a saucer. Russian roulette. angelic slivers. ginseng. cut antlers allotted in bags dogs on a spit, a Dutch girl winking holds a bowl of shellfish. white cloth, drunkenness. a different language leaks out— the idea of throat, an orifice, a cord— you say it turns you on when I speak Korean. The gold paste of afterbirth, no red— Household phrases —pae-go-p’a(I am hungry)

fluid melodic getting more and more drastic the moment she gives in to him she regrets it a throat   a chest trying to press themselves a current of air air through the mask all the flourishes in the world the fingers, the foot trilling, the breath keen responding to recitative closing and opening out from the head with the hands carry it through the aria carry it through the chorus when finally does, waltzes a solo but not alone “let's waltz a rumba" never gives in to the waltz never embellished motifs, mimetic, sign language as clear gesture displacing singers he likes this sound muted and pronounced effort of error she likes this sound weight, irrepressible effort of eros they talk about their differences w/out trying to change or be changed regretting herself where do we meet each other w/out trying to hang or be caged