new post: writing new post: poem for posting:

well o,
that was fun

:
you were half an emoticon from
the erotic terror of grasping my plain
civility,

where were the blue lights?
water wheels, and sharpies, the
candelabra eagled on your fathers mantlepiece?

i was breathing
(think the snow was mouthing sweet nothings
to my mother)
and why are my parents so in
on the basement brushstroke
of my poem?

i was sure i was trying to picture you:
   aqua, charcoal, bent candles
   nifty in the pants.

the kettledrum spoke over,
is shrieking- even now,
the lit

ermine couch is growing fur,
(i was trying to get it
to soften)

but you weren't into it. and after
the wine had left i was
tasting the whip

and kneading my hands into better versions
of my longings.