Two poems


undomesticated

THIS PLACE IS HAUNTED thinks the
beautiful big-dicked boy, his
big dick as hard as a shiny steel pipe.
chains are rattling in the background.
there are moans and sighs.  a big
dog, more like a wolf, really,
stands shivering in the middle of
the room, blinks,
squints, then trots off into
nothingness. THIS PLACE IS
FUCKING HAUNTED! thinks the
beautiful big-dicked boy. he is
standing naked in the middle
of a big smooth room. there
is a large rumpled bed, and a few
over-stuffed chairs. the light
is dim. he doesn't know
how he got here, why he's
here, how long he's been
here, but his big hot dick
is hard and throbbing, and shiny
like steel, in the strange
phosphorescence of the light,
whose source he is unable
to discern. the room is
just strangely glowing. he
himself is shiny like
metal--beautiful and big-dicked
and horny as hell as chains
rattle, voices moan and groan
all around him, and the big
dog, yes, it is a wolf! no
doubt about it, the wolf
returns, growls, then
breaks into sobs and moans
that sound very much human.
the beautiful big-dicked
boy walks over to the wolf,
pats it on the head, and
the wolf's eyes turn white-hot,
and sugared cherries fall out
of its open mouth. the
beautiful big-dicked boy
bends down and eats,
starving for food,
and company.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem -- "undomesticated" -- also appears in my book Gorilla Architecture, published by Interior Noise Press in 2011.  Before that, "undomesticated" appeared in Thieves Jargon, June 4, 2009.)


sheaths and quivers

the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
liked to rumage around in old books, and
look at photos of ancient statues of sexy naked men.
he wanted to see some of these statues in real life.
yes, he was eager. in fact, he practically gave off vibrations.
**
one day,
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
was in his room, minding his own business,
when a statue crawled in through his open window.
the statue was one of those statues that
he'd longed to see, one of those greco-etruscan-type
sexy naked men. the statue had a few chips
off one elbow, and a ding in its knee, and
a small chip off its chin, but,
other than that, the statue was pretty much
perfect. the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
was relieved to see that its dick hadn't been
broken off over the years, a fate that had
befallen so many other otherwise-beautiful statues
of sexy naked men.
"i think love mit," said the statue to
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy.
**
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
didn't quite know what the statue meant by that,
but, nonetheless, he and the statue
eagerly climbed into bed.
**
after about 8 hours of non-stop sex,
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
and the beautiful dinged-up statue
lay there in bed, side by side, on their backs,
staring up at the ceiling.
"wow!" said the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy.
"meat-packing festival," said the beautiful statue.
clearly, communication was going to be a problem,
but they were confident they could work things out.
**
in the morning, inside the museum
where the statue had been on display,
the staff is puzzled by its absence, and
alarmed, too.
not one of them
imagines that that
statue simply up and
left on its own,
in search of
love in the arms of a
sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy.
**
meanwhile, back in that boy's bedroom,
the boy and the statue
just keep going at it,
eternity seems likely,
yea, verily, perhaps
even certain.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem first appeared in The Commonline Journal, June 8, 2016. It also appears in my book String Bean.)