Selected Poetry

 
 
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humidity caresses it all

I never thought of summer 
as a sexy time for me
until I started loving sweat; 
until beach sand in crevices was 
a pleasantly abrasive reminder of said crevices; 
until the rubbing of thighs felt like pleasuring; 
until a peeling sunburn felt like a strip tease.

This is not a body acceptance saga. 
I simply have a fascination with fluids, 
detritus and friction; with the awkward, 
gauche and deep dark body bits summer 
stimulates.

Summer reminds me of where I touch myself. 
Each shift makes a new clammy fold to feel.
Summer lets me show off working feet. 
Summer lets me play with tan lines. 
Summer lets my pores release joyous 
cleansing sweat in public, reminding everyone that 
that is one of several self lubricating functions 
my body has. 

Summer time is marked by
sun rashes, lawn lines, bike bruises,
sweat stains, and metabolized ice cream.

Summer brings out my excema, 
my dander, my bug-bite-prone 
rarely shaven calves to redden in the sun shine.

Sexy is, for me, now a summer time thing.
I get swamp crotch and hairs venturing down 
the inner thigh. With no bra it’s like I have two extra pits.
And humidity caresses it all.



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No Romance

No Romance
I’ve ever had
started with a word
they started with a look
look
I can’t say
it won’t happen
some time
I can’t promise
to never take a word
to heart
but allow me 
to be wary
of translation
intention percentages
are low
behind a word
I’ve found
jaded
skeptical,
sure,
it’s realistic
but words are very
nice for fantasy
heart play
(breath steady)
when you utter
triggers
to ignite the
surface of
a toxic river
a flame
and flowing
pumping
veins
until it burns thru
to an eye roll,
a sigh
that may be
the release
of gases from
a gurgling
bubbling shame

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btwn wrds

at first
I, btwn words, slipped
sticky
feeling(s)
your way

ex. by way of
an ‘and’
that made a
gap beside
a ‘that’
and a ‘what’
dripping with
(tone-of-voice)
(innuendo)
+ suggesting 
intention with positions
more closely 
resembling
a hunt
than a diplomatic
summit,
I believe I pressed,

a lasting
impression
into your
your
your
into …

and then
we were
sinking into the swamp
of something romantic
and ambiguously complicated

suddenly stickiness became disgusting
when the skin surfaces btwn us
were threatened by
(your) overly potent concoction of
needing (me)

shame, is the result of interest and enjoyment
interrupted.

and now, see a sort of masochistic intimacy
based on laying out all these
textured discomforts
caused by being in the vicinity of
one another