I don’t mind getting naked or seeing you naked.
I don’t mind talking about sex or having sex
or never having sex. I don’t mind my body
or your body with mine. I don’t mind
your sweaty palms, your chapped lips,
your dirty tongue. I don’t mind
your noisy music, your crappy poetry,
your soiled shoes and ugly handwriting.
I don’t mind 2ams and late night
phone calls, stolen kisses and white lies.
I don’t mind your half-eaten donut,
frozen teabags and sticky hair.
I want your toothbrush’s head
leaning towards mine. I want
your 4am back massage.
Cup my breasts and don’t say
they’re small. I already know that.
Kiss me once and kiss me more.
Pretend what we’re doing is illegal.
It’s always good to be caught
with our mouths tied together
like handcuffs. Dry your cheeks
and make me bleed.
Crave me.
Crave me.
Crave me.

irishjulienne
in the name of intimacy

Today’s Good Read

June 23, 2019

the smell of smoke

June 23, 2019

We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered.

Tom Stoppard
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead

Regular Exercise

June 23, 2019

American consumers

June 23, 2019

…our television exists for the sole purpose of selling American products to American consumers…

Orson Welles
Twilight in the smog
Esquire March 1959

It is not the purpose and certainly not the magic of poetry to speak about the thing (information), but rather to speak the thing, to perform the impossible task of making the absent present — palpably, tangibly present.

B.H. Fairchild
A Midwestern Poetics
New Letters (vol.78, no.1,Fall 2011)

wolf-girl

June 23, 2019

You have the eyes of a wolf-girl whose heart has never once been moved. When I press my ear to your chest, I hear only wind and emptiness.

Bae Suah
Nowhere to Be Found
Tran. Sora Kim-Russell

Sunday Morning again

June 23, 2019