Two poems



sherwin-williams

in some parts of the country, it's
a homeowner's tradition: everything in
the yard (except
the grass itself) gets painted white:
every rock, every birdbath, every
busty concrete mermaid statue,
even the lower 3.5 feet
of every tree trunk--all painted white.
**
at night, there's kind of an eerie
glow from all that white paint.
**
at night, there's
just the hint that maybe the
practice of painting everything
in the yard white is kind
of charming and weirdly nice, like
the people who do all that painting
know what the heck it is they are doing.
those yards do look kind of inviting
now don't they...
**
in fact,
**
sometimes,
sexy teenage boys escape from
their bedrooms and
naked smoke and drink
beside white rocks and
lower 3.5 feet of white tree trunks.
sometimes these sexy
naked teenage boys get smoke-drunk
and erotic-happy and
jerk off together, out there
in some unsuspecting yard,
amongst all the white
objects: then,
all done,
wander nocturnal neighborhoods
on tiptoe, on delicate hoof, among
the white rocks;
only the
dribbles give them away.

–Carl Miller Daniels (This poem – “sherwin-williams” – also appears in my book Gorilla Architecture, published by Interior Noise Press in 2011. And “sherwin-williams” first appeared in Rusty Truck, October 20, 2010.)


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


do you dream in color?

the sexy young man is naked and asleep
on his back, the covers kicked off.
it's summer. his room is warm.
just before he spurts cum and wakes up,
this is what he is dreaming:
**
large flightless birds wander
freely, foraging for food among
the slimy secretions and armpit
hairs. pine trees grow tall
and wispy in the gardens
that surround the wet birdbaths.
hamburgers occur naturally
on the landscape, with onions
and pickle. the bathwater
is soapy and warm when
two naked young men climb
into it and begin to splash
each other.  their toenails are pink and
very, very shiny.  noodle soup on the stove top
in the kitchen bubbles
enticingly.
**
when he awakens, the whitish mucusy
glaze has only recently appeared
on his chest and belly, and
dribbled into his pubic hair. the glaze
is still warm & runny.
he knows
what has happened from past experience.
hanging from the bedpost is an old t-shirt.
he cleans himself off with the t-shirt.
then he drops it onto the floor.
**
he lies there in the dark
cum-scented muskiness of the hot
summer night.  eventually, he
will go back to sleep.
**
but, for a while, he stares
into the darkness above him.
suddenly, he turns on the bedside
lamp and looks at his toenails.
they're pink, alright. pretty
goddamn pink.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem -- "do you dream in color?" -- also appears in my book Riot Act, published by Chiron Review Press in 2010.