Two poems



don't pout

the sexy big-dicked boy is
all alone in the house; he's
free to swish and sway and jump
up and down and dance stark naked
in front of his mirror
and watch his big dick flop around,
thwack up against the sides
of his thighs, plop and flop its cockhead
against his navel, he revels in
his own non-stop motion,
revels in the fact that he is a
sexy big-dicked boy jumping up
and down in his near-crazy dance
of joy, all alone. he spurts
cum. he does it again.
and yet again. his crazy
dance of joy continues
on thru the afternoon. soon, tho,
it is evening, and the sexy
big-dicked boy has already
sprouted a long gray
beard, he has lost
several teeth, and his shoulders
are stooped -- the sky is darkening,
a trillion-mouthed cloud
of insects is circling,
and already the moonbeams
are choking on the phlegm.

--Carl Miller Daniels

=================================

phases of the moon

he is 20 yrs old--lean, sexy,
big-dicked--
**
and when he watches himself
jerk off in front of
the bathroom mirror,
he likes what he sees,
his face a good face,
his chest a good chest,
and his fingers
move knowledgeably and
skillfully as they manipulate
his nice big cock, the
flared-out edges of the head
goose-bump textured,
and unabashedly fleshy, and
purple-pink.
**
when he watches himself
spurt cum,
his eyes flare wide open,
and little sparks seem to shoot
right out of them,
as he stands there
in the bathtub big-dicked
and panting, and
tingly all over.
**
then he closes the
shower curtain and
gets on with his shower:
**
when he climbs out,
the mirror is all fogged up,
and the reflected image
is now soft, muted, and wispy,
even his dazzling white smile,
just a dazzling white
blur, the head of his cock,
fuzzy pink, and delicately
shiny.
**
when he opens the bathroom door
to let the dry air come rushing in,
solid flesh appears once again,
and soon his teeth are sharp, gleaming,
and really sort of scary.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem also appears in my book Riot Act, published by Chiron Review Press in 2010.)