Two Poems


tendon

"me me me me i'm just
so me-centered. when will
it ever stop? when will
i ever really care
about anyone or
anything else?" thinks
the sexy record-breaking
collegiate swimmer,
as he stands up from
the toilet, flushes it,
and adjusts his speedo
to perfect ball-hugging
cock-defining fit,
and off he strides
toward the pool
and satisfaction
and victory,
the flex of his
own muscles the glide
of his own skin through
the blue-tinted
chlorinated water
will leave him
giddy almost sick
with joy, high
as a white fluffy cloud,
serious masturbation
to follow soon
thereafter, and then,
as usual,
when he's spurting cum
he'll be thinking about
the possibility of
finding his long-lost twin,
a constant fixation of
his: the find, the two of them,
him and his identical twin,
together: it wouldn't
really be incest,
not really, DNA being
what it is, and
flesh moody as a
dream.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem also appears in my book Gorilla Architecture, published by Interior Noise Press in 2011. And the poem first appeared in Assaracus #3, June 2011.)
=====================================

peace peace peace

when the tv's on and the bourbon's just easing
its way into my system, creeping through my
blood vessels toward my fingertips and my earlobes,
ah, this is when the rest of the day
recedes into the background, details
dislodging themselves from my brain,
so-called pressing problems displaced by
a feeling of well-being and comfort.
**
when the cute young man on the tv screen
takes off his shirt and strides
with masculine stride from point a to point b,
wearing only those tight-fitting faded ole blue
jeans of his, and the bourbon is really
absorbing nicely directly from my tongue tip
to my brain stem (biologically possible
or not! it sure feels that way sometimes),
then, ah yes then, it's nice to be
alive, gently buzzed, watching a
sexy half-naked young man walk
non-threateningly across the tv screen,
and the ice in my glass makes such
a charming tinkle, it's almost like
a song, a good one, with a sweet
melody, and a kind gentle heart.
**
jim beam bourbon n canada dry ginger ale,
gently mixed, over ice: pretty & lightly amber
in the glass, what else do you want me to say?
well, i do understand why people drink,
and i understand why i drink, and i understand
why i'll probably never quite quit, even
though sometimes, it seems like
some kind of idea, you know, just
for a change.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem also appears in my book String Bean, published by BareBackPress in March 2018. The poem first appeared in Zen Baby, Issue #19, September 2008.)