Hold her roped in rapture exposed from
the bedroom window the watcher sweetly
speaks soft science fictions into the Mars
canals of her earscape glowing sunset red
translucent wet saliva and dry spit
show her private photos of secret
mountain waters surrounding her in a
wooded shadow, kneel in the clearing
blood in the pine moss carpet and coiled fern
she knows full well w. full body what
the shadows see
following her filthy fingerprints
clambering abandoned train trestles
ogling magazines of uncouth cowboys on
sorrel stallions, wilding women w. long
laser guns laced to their latex legs
bury her face in the new smell of a used book
morning's warm coffee an aromatic aphrodisiac
late-night's strip tease tipsy in the porch light
wraith in bare feet begging with a crooked smile
she sits where a bygone boss sat, and in his years
absence her naked ass on his naked desk
dust as heavy as the paperweights used to be
when the last men left this building shuddered
she is ready when she is wet, calling you to
come inside
frame her in summer thunder
disguised as that torrent of falling rain.
TA
. The Poet's Beat .
Wednesday, April 26, 2023
Where a Bygone Boss Sat
The Handler
a natural calibration of evolution and instinct
tiered system of groups and subgroups
a pecking order of individuals within
lovers
best friends
parents, children
leaders
groupies
assholes
fuckboys
and pushovers
disposition, genetics, blood
all play a role to determine
who moves for who
who steps out of whose way
but when I enter the corral
they all move for me.
TA
Downtown in Spokane
He was coif and pertinent
unexpectedly beautiful
his face did not improve w. make-up
smokey eyes and distracting masculinity
a few extra ribs, and angular
a woman's perfect ass
husky cock I could never quite get hard
burlesque bouffant but unsustainable
short dress of immodest length
a decent exposure
long runs along his black stockings from
run-ins w. strangers
he keeps me busy in a maze of
perfumed costumery
fingering his lace hem
unbuckling pink corset
in the lurid red light tumbling together
squirrelly satyrs in an old oak nook
discarded appetites
and lingerie
intoxicating pulse of silver stringing
through our erect vascular cycles
returning again and again to
the glass pipe
that wandering eye
devourer of an ordinary life
my open throne regaled to impassioned touch
eager lips greeting
grieving mothers
open containers
this lascivious queer king of chance encounters.
TA
Damned Lovers w. Teacup Tits
from gooseflesh to grey rock and stone
like rag weed in your suburban garden
hurricane hair carousel spinning eye of the storm
ultra-green grass lasso'd lass on the back lawn
still, so fucking stupid sexy to me
bent will, bent back
mother's gallons of golden milk
crying in your
candle cream-colored warm water bath
long neck for the noose
hung like I am late Saturday night
you do not get to own all of this pain
such a beautiful martyr you are
though you lay with dullard gods
still gods crave you
but, bitch, my eyes sting absent your visage
pale pearl riving in an oyster of my bedroom blankets
thick threaded throat of blonde fur
laying red and wet
open hungry trophy
begging rope bound knots twisting thirsty
wolven innuendo
my hands ache to grip you
whiskey whispering our favorite author's names
into the oven light
pushing under your summer dress in the dark drive
it hurts, here below my ribs
like a plunging bloody dagger deep into my chest
near to that same spot where below those
teacup tits your own broken heart lies.
TA
Janet My Guide
Janet in her denim vestiture arrested
wrists adorned in turquoise jewelry
collapsing aperture hay barn cowboy
conjecture
heart warm heart broken
heart worm vaccinations
fire department came hellbound down
from town cause the smoke in the woods
beckoned
locusts in the black pine
locusts black dark dirt road
known only to locals
midnight came the party turned bogus
Janet puts her hand over mine the other
on my fly the horse tenses below us
neighs grows nervous
fire in the woods and in the sky
I can't stop
Janet whispers, hush, stay focused.
TA