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Click hereLast night's towel, rough in spots
like vivid terrains, has captured
enough of us to create a thousand worlds,
and still we tremble with the hunger
of sparking yet one more perfect globe.
At the words on my breath you unfold,
opening into an invitation to
my penetration, a threshold
to touching and tasting the juices
of earth and wind and water and flesh.
Upon your surrendering shudders I enter
and push the breath up from your throat
and into the world,
opening your belly deep to be filled with
spilling incarnated love flowing
from my source
through my cock
into the womb of your sex,
filling a new world
with the hot longing of re-creation.
And that flow dances, threatening
the edge of wildness, inside your
thighs and mouth and pumping heart,
led by the distant constant pounding
of my building breath
falling over you closer again,
again...
Until I shelter your sinking spent form
from the new firm earth we have made.
....are a lot of good things here, enough for me to know that this new poet has original things to say, and promises more and better verse ahead. In my opinion, this poem needs to be broken apart, and structered and punctuated better, in order to display the full power that is there waiting to break loose.
We see a lot of fuck poems, they've been done to death. But this one is fresh and beautiful. Thanks.