Several poems

flavor

oh yes, it is indeed possible that Zac Efron is the
sexiest most handsome young man on the planet.
yes, it is indeed possible that every young gay boy,
that every gay teenage boy,
that every gay young man, that every gay 30-something
man, that every gay middle-age man, and that every gay old man
on the planet
who has ever seen even one photograph of Zac Efron or
who has seen Zac Efron act in even one movie
entertains the thought of gently licking
Zac Efron's balls.
and yes,
it is indeed possible that ANYbody on the planet
with any sense knows that
Zac Efron, yes, KNOWS
that Zac Efron is almost excruciatingly attractive,
knows
that Zac Efron is handsome beyond almost
all standard measures of handsomeness,
knows that Zac Efron is
sexy way beyond almost all measures of sexiness.
gay males, straight females, and no doubt
bi males and bi females, too, think
about Zac Efron in terms that are sexual.
some straight males, too, yes males
who know that they are heterosexual, perhaps
nonetheless find themselves thinking
about Zac Efron in terms that are
frankly, sexual. in fact, some heterosexual
males are no doubt disturbed to wake
up in the middle of the night
fresh from a dream involving an imagined Zac Efron
movie and a Zac Efron scene
is which there is full frontal nudity of
a Zac Efron kind.
Most disturbing of all, to these kind
of men, is that whenever they spell
his name, they always spell it
right.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem first appeared in Chiron Review, Issue 86, Spring 2009. It also appears in my book Be Kind to Strangers, published by BareBackPress in 2015.)






ozone

ballsy guys will say darn near anything
to darn near anyone.
ballsy guys get a lot of
action in the bedroom.
ballsy guys are
dream-tickets to the
bridges of passion, heart-breakers
from way-back, used
to disappointing folks,
accustomed to the sweet
smell of success. sometimes,
a ballsy guy and a mousey
guy will get together, and be best friends.
a ballsy guy and a mousey guy together,
the ballsy guy plows right on ahead,
and the mousey guy gets to follow along,
share in the spoils of innumerable
victories. there's little conflict;
there's never any doubt who's
in charge. the ballsy guy
asserts; the mousey guy
hangs around for laughs.
when life throws a mean twist,
though, the ballsy guy
and the mousey guy have
been known to get a little
too comfortable together,
in their efforts to comfort
one another. they always
stop short of having sex
with each other, though.
almost always, anyway.
a rainy night a few weeks after
a death in the family, the
aura of gloom is palpable,
life seems senseless,
and the ballsy guy and
the mousey guy are
sharing their secrets;
lightning flashes
and, well, things happen,
there on the couch
in the half-light
of love.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem also appears in my book Gorilla Architecture, published by Interior Noise Press in 2011. "ozone" was first published in [sic] magazine, back in June of 2008.)


prurient salsa

by the fireplace, the stockings are hung,
and the turtle doves are
sad sacks of feathers.
the crispin accentuation of
evergreen features merely
goes to prove the
slogan that
wintertime can be hell.
**
however, in his room,
on this cold winter day,
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
stands ruminating on
the uncertainties of just
about everything,
except the
sweet succulent joy of orgasm.
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
is gently tugging on his own great
big smooth hot dick,
as he watches the snow falling
outside his window.
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
has a candy cane in his mouth,
and he is sucking on
it as he tugs on his hard thick dick.
the snow falls.
he sucks on his candy cane.
he tugs on his dick some more.
he begins spurting cum,
and his eyes close tight
as he spurts and spurts and
spurts hot
gooey cum.
then,
the snow falling outside his window,
the candy cane wet and slippery
and sugary in his mouth,
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
kind of whimpers.
it's almost a sob,
but not quite
that serious.

(This poem first appeared in BareBack Magazine, November/December 2013. It also appears in my book String Bean.)


------------------------------------------------------


twice the size of our regular brand

millipedes on the resplendent landscapes of
theoretical principles of sex and sexuality
fascinated everyone, of course,
but none more than the
sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy.
when he thought about everything,
about the hair and the aroma and
the slipperiness of it all,
the millipede on the
stepping stone in the backyard
rolling up into a ball as a way
to protect itself from harm,
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
knelt down and studied the
creature, the spiral of the
coil, the legs tugged in tight,
its little head protected in
the very center of the coil,
golly what a pretty creature
it is,
and
as
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
stares at the millipede which has
rolled itself into a coil on
the stepping stone in his
backyard,
he contemplates being out here
naked,
hoping no one will observe
him out here,
where he shouldn't be naked--
it's not like he's an exhibitionist
or something, it's not like
he wants everyone to
see his big throbbing dick,
a part of nature as
sure as
the yellow dragonflies,
currently laying their eggs
in the crystal-clear fishpond
that his father loves
like a son.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem also appears in my book Gorilla Architecture, published by Interior Noise Press in 2011.)




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first love

besides
Roy Rogers on tv when i was 6 (and that
doesn't really count)
it was a
high-school
basketball player
tall + skinny
with a deep
gentle voice
we were lab partners
in advanced biology
we dissected a fetal pig together
+ a huge dull-green grasshopper too
i never said
or did anything
to let him know
i'd have slept with him
in an instant
an all-night camping
trip would've been
perfect  but
this would of course
have meant that
our relationship
went deeper than
a dead fetal pig
+ a big dead grasshopper
i peeled back skin +
muscles  imagined his
zipper his underpants parting instead
labs were odd affairs
his long thin legs folded
beneath the table he'd try to keep
them out of the way
yet sometimes one of his
knees would bang the
underside of the table
+ lift it annoyingly
he always apologized
+ his apologies
were sincere
it's just that
his legs were so long
at night my wet dreams
reeked of
formalin and
sweaty basketball shoes
i chewed grasshopper legs
+ wept for dead baby pigs.

--Carl Miller Daniels (My poem "first love" also appears in my book Gorilla Architecture, published by Interior Noise Press in 2011.  And "first love" first appeared in Chiron Review, issue #64, in March 2001.)