It is a dangerous thing to follow your heart
because that is where you will find me,
tucked inside.
Secret Thots for a Very Private Gentleman
tales, temptation, and titillation…
Oh, to be that hand that fondlespinchestwistsprobessqueezes
Oh, to be that mouth that slurpscaressesdrinkssuckles
Oh, to be that cock that dancesplungespoundsfillspulses
Oh, to be that cunt that takesitallandmore
to be wanted
to be the first and most
to be the last and beloved
to be all that I am not
Oh.
I have my version of this fancy.
It’s a poem of, oh, say sonnet-length;
it’s supple, undisrupted. It feels like this:
I close the door. (Behind it: gabble
and disjunction.) And I walk into the clear,
black night. I’m in a great arena. Nothing
can be seen – there may be nothing to be seen – except
of course for the ball on fire. That’s all I need.
That’s all: the darkness, and one burning sphere.
And I follow its light down the field.
-Albert Goldbarth –