Spice of Asparagus

The rain pelted, popping
…like corn
exploding
‘gainst steamy crystal window panes
while th’exquisite, pungent
bellowing
spice of asparagus
clung, lingering …
arousing a longing, arousing a hunger
for the hard, nameless, brawny swain’s
glimmering, limering eyes
where had he come from?
what could it mean?
how could I seize its clinging
insatiable, its lusty allure
and bottle it…
forever?

Silky Spools 

Above all else,

we are lions, lone hunters
of good strong hands and deep soppy kisses
from lips blood-gorged
with biting desire for sexy brains
painting masterpieces o’er this mundane plane
through which we flail, stalking…
obsidian nights, like untethered kites
through booming, electric
tropical squalls
the crushing might of milky
dimpled, brawny, crescent moons
the cleaving throb of thick
and crimson, blue-jeweled swords
dangling full, and heavy
‘tween thumping bullish thighs
so strong to splay-a-man’s spine in half
in one scissored thrust
of fervid, swollen flesh
to die sweet deaths
into silky spools of moist

embrace