1952 or 1953 Mercury
Tuesday, June 30, 2020
Two poems
brillo pads
the swans floating on the lake are
dirty and gritty, their long necks
muted with grime.
the swans no longer seem to be able
to clean themselves, or each
other. they are not pure
and white anymore, but
grungy, soiled, dingy.
**
the sexy half-naked young man
standing on the banks
of the lake
watches the dirty swans,
and feels a tightness
in his chest.
last night he fucked
his girlfriend
for the very first time.
last night was
the first
time that he fucked
anyone, ever,
and yes, the
loss of his virginity
is a mystical
and oddly icky
presence inside
his tight pink brain.
**
the sexy half-naked young man
rubs his sexy little nipples
with his fingertips,
and watches the
dirty swans adrift
on the lake.
the smell in the
air is fungal,
of things forever
damp, a kind of
mildewy presence
in his flared-out
nostrils.
**
eventually the
sexy half-naked young man
stops staring at the dirty
swans, at their
long soiled necks, at
the oily-looking blotches
on their off-white backs,
and he heads on home,
to eat rice krispies,
and slurp up the
sugary milk.
--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem appeared in Asphodel Madness 2.0, September 7, 2010.)
======================================
stands up
so this cute sexy big-dicked guy puts
on his underpants and then he gets a notion
to stuff some big peeled
carrots down those tight white underpants
while he is wearing the underpants.
then he takes about 50 photographs
of himself this way, with those
big peeled carrots
stuffed into his briefs,
and then, when that
does not seem immediate
enough, he calls up michael,
a friend of his who's
an art museum director,
and he tells michael
to rush right
on over. so michael the art museum
director
rushes on over,
and the carrots-in-underpants
guy meets michael at the door,
and michael
is a bit shocked, and
charmed, too. so it turns
out the carrots-in-underpants
guy is an installation
in michael's next
art museum exhibit.
the carrots-in-underpants guy
stands there
6 hours a day with
18 or so big peeled carrots
stuck down
his tight white underpants.
attendance is good.
museum visitors are
intrigued.
carrots-in-underpants
guy and michael
are
secretly in love, by the way.
ah, the sweet subtle vaguaries of
art.
--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem appeared in FUCK!, Volume 13, No 9, September 2010.)
brillo pads
the swans floating on the lake are
dirty and gritty, their long necks
muted with grime.
the swans no longer seem to be able
to clean themselves, or each
other. they are not pure
and white anymore, but
grungy, soiled, dingy.
**
the sexy half-naked young man
standing on the banks
of the lake
watches the dirty swans,
and feels a tightness
in his chest.
last night he fucked
his girlfriend
for the very first time.
last night was
the first
time that he fucked
anyone, ever,
and yes, the
loss of his virginity
is a mystical
and oddly icky
presence inside
his tight pink brain.
**
the sexy half-naked young man
rubs his sexy little nipples
with his fingertips,
and watches the
dirty swans adrift
on the lake.
the smell in the
air is fungal,
of things forever
damp, a kind of
mildewy presence
in his flared-out
nostrils.
**
eventually the
sexy half-naked young man
stops staring at the dirty
swans, at their
long soiled necks, at
the oily-looking blotches
on their off-white backs,
and he heads on home,
to eat rice krispies,
and slurp up the
sugary milk.
--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem appeared in Asphodel Madness 2.0, September 7, 2010.)
======================================
stands up
so this cute sexy big-dicked guy puts
on his underpants and then he gets a notion
to stuff some big peeled
carrots down those tight white underpants
while he is wearing the underpants.
then he takes about 50 photographs
of himself this way, with those
big peeled carrots
stuffed into his briefs,
and then, when that
does not seem immediate
enough, he calls up michael,
a friend of his who's
an art museum director,
and he tells michael
to rush right
on over. so michael the art museum
director
rushes on over,
and the carrots-in-underpants
guy meets michael at the door,
and michael
is a bit shocked, and
charmed, too. so it turns
out the carrots-in-underpants
guy is an installation
in michael's next
art museum exhibit.
the carrots-in-underpants guy
stands there
6 hours a day with
18 or so big peeled carrots
stuck down
his tight white underpants.
attendance is good.
museum visitors are
intrigued.
carrots-in-underpants
guy and michael
are
secretly in love, by the way.
ah, the sweet subtle vaguaries of
art.
--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem appeared in FUCK!, Volume 13, No 9, September 2010.)
Monday, June 29, 2020
parsley between the teeth
he still remembers living
in the dorm in college and being
hunky and 20 years
old and waking up that
afternoon from a sexdream and
finding a pool of his own cum soaking
the sheet from the sexdream he's just
been having and the sunlight is streaming in
like golden shadows
lighting up the cum-wet
tent he's erected
over his own cum-wet
belly.
he feels warm and friendly,
a young sex-god
banging the sunlight.
**
he's middle-aged now,
and, now, when he jerks off,
he finds that he still thinks back to that
afternoon in the dorm:
the cum-soaked sheet, the sunlight,
things that happen
when you're 20, good-looking,
lying naked on your sweaty back under a
gossamer tent in the stunningly bright
rays of the sun.
--Carl Miller Daniels (2015)
he still remembers living
in the dorm in college and being
hunky and 20 years
old and waking up that
afternoon from a sexdream and
finding a pool of his own cum soaking
the sheet from the sexdream he's just
been having and the sunlight is streaming in
like golden shadows
lighting up the cum-wet
tent he's erected
over his own cum-wet
belly.
he feels warm and friendly,
a young sex-god
banging the sunlight.
**
he's middle-aged now,
and, now, when he jerks off,
he finds that he still thinks back to that
afternoon in the dorm:
the cum-soaked sheet, the sunlight,
things that happen
when you're 20, good-looking,
lying naked on your sweaty back under a
gossamer tent in the stunningly bright
rays of the sun.
--Carl Miller Daniels (2015)
The Basketball Diaries by Jim Carroll
Here's one of my favorite passages from the book--
Tonight I just stuck
it out in bed, radared the scene and slipped into some
baggy jeans, a tee-shirt (stayed barefoot) and went out
and up. "Up" is my roof, and what I do is simply take
off all my clothes, stand around awhile, a totally naked
young boy, stare into the star machine and jerk myself
off. Is it strange? Maybe, but it's certainly the most beau-
tiful and exciting way of masturbating I've experienced
since I first began my steady practice of the art when
I was just turning twelve . . .
Here's one of my favorite passages from the book--
Tonight I just stuck
it out in bed, radared the scene and slipped into some
baggy jeans, a tee-shirt (stayed barefoot) and went out
and up. "Up" is my roof, and what I do is simply take
off all my clothes, stand around awhile, a totally naked
young boy, stare into the star machine and jerk myself
off. Is it strange? Maybe, but it's certainly the most beau-
tiful and exciting way of masturbating I've experienced
since I first began my steady practice of the art when
I was just turning twelve . . .
Sunday, June 28, 2020
Saturday, June 27, 2020
Two poems
clorox bleach
the twin boys had been having sex with each other
longer than they could remember.
perhaps they'd first sucked each other's dicks
inside their mother's womb.
they'd grown up sexy slender and gorgeous, and
all through high school they'd
done it: had secret sex with each other.
and, all through college,
it had been easy since they
were roommates in the dorm, and
then, in their own apartment.
they'd never "cheated" on each other,
never had sex with anyone else.
sometimes, after a particularly
tough academic week in college,
exam week for example,
well, the weekend following
that, they spent that entire
weekend in bed, "recuperating
thru recreation," having every
kind of sex with each other
that they'd ever had, and adding
in a couple more variations, as well,
"for extra fun."
**
then,
after college, they got
jobs in the same city,
and lived together,
and continued having sex
with each other all the time,
until, one day, seemingly
out of the blue,
one of the twins
said it should stop.
it was "just wrong."
they had a brief discussion,
and,
it was decided that they
would continue living together,
but would no longer have
sex with each other.
**
their world turned dark
and stormy. alone in
their now-separate beds, they cried
themselves to sleep nearly
every night.
**
finally, the twin who
had initiated the "no-sex" rule
moved out,
and left his twin brother all
alone.
**
as the century ended, and
trees everywhere began dying
of intense and
vicious insect infestations,
the sexy twin boys
continued their lives alone,
full of shame,
confused about the
guilt, lonely for
each other's arms, dicks,
asses,
the taste of each other's cum.
**
finally,
when they both thought everything
looked pretty much hopeless,
one weekend
they had a major "slip-up"
in the shower of their suite in
a major hotel. after, their
eyes shining like
four super-nova stars,
they said
to each other, and quietly, too,
just to heck with everything,
and moved back in together,
and
quietly lived,
life.
--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem also appears in my book Saline, published by Interior Noise Press in 2014.)
********************************************************
krebs cycle no ez A
"i masturbate a lot and i've never
masturbated alone in my
entire life," the masturbator-guy suddenly says to tex.
**
the masturbator-guy is real good-looking, too.
**
"oh yeah?" says tex, nervously.
tex is not exactly bad-looking himself.
they are in tex's college dorm room at the time,
studying microbiology.
**
"yeah," says the masturbator-guy. "even when i was just
starting out, i never masturbated alone.
always wanted to do it with somebody else around.
like now, for instance."
**
"er," says tex. "um," adds tex.
**
masturbator-guy whips out his cock,
starts masturbating. "we'll get back to studying
right after," says masturbator-guy.
**
"um," says tex. "um." tex is
nervous, and seems creeped-out. but tex doesn't look away.
**
soon, masturbator-guy goes off like
a rocket. sitting there in the chair right across from tex,
masturbator-guy whips off his shirt right before,
and then mops up his chest and belly
with a glob of kleenexes which
he then drops into tex's trashcan. so wet it goes "plop".
**
tex watches everything.
**
"your turn," says masturbator-guy. "and actually,
the idea is to jerk off at the SAME time i'm
jerking off."
**
"er," tex says. "this is too weird for me. let's
just get back to studying, ok?"
**
masturbator-guy zips up and puts his shirt back on.
then he and tex do get right back to studying.
"next time, you'll join in," says
masturbator-guy. "you'll see."
**
turns out masturbator-guy was right
about a whole lot of things that semester.
**
-- both he & tex eventually making
so much cream you'd think they were trying to answer
all the cumulative coffee prayers of the tired &
hungry masses.
**
at starbucks, they always chuckled. they didn't
take coffee back to tex's room, but
they could've, if they wanted.
**
next semester, the history of science.
--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem also appears in my book Riot Act, published by Chiron Review Press in 2010. The poem was first published in Zygote in My Coffee, Issue #68, October 2006.)
clorox bleach
the twin boys had been having sex with each other
longer than they could remember.
perhaps they'd first sucked each other's dicks
inside their mother's womb.
they'd grown up sexy slender and gorgeous, and
all through high school they'd
done it: had secret sex with each other.
and, all through college,
it had been easy since they
were roommates in the dorm, and
then, in their own apartment.
they'd never "cheated" on each other,
never had sex with anyone else.
sometimes, after a particularly
tough academic week in college,
exam week for example,
well, the weekend following
that, they spent that entire
weekend in bed, "recuperating
thru recreation," having every
kind of sex with each other
that they'd ever had, and adding
in a couple more variations, as well,
"for extra fun."
**
then,
after college, they got
jobs in the same city,
and lived together,
and continued having sex
with each other all the time,
until, one day, seemingly
out of the blue,
one of the twins
said it should stop.
it was "just wrong."
they had a brief discussion,
and,
it was decided that they
would continue living together,
but would no longer have
sex with each other.
**
their world turned dark
and stormy. alone in
their now-separate beds, they cried
themselves to sleep nearly
every night.
**
finally, the twin who
had initiated the "no-sex" rule
moved out,
and left his twin brother all
alone.
**
as the century ended, and
trees everywhere began dying
of intense and
vicious insect infestations,
the sexy twin boys
continued their lives alone,
full of shame,
confused about the
guilt, lonely for
each other's arms, dicks,
asses,
the taste of each other's cum.
**
finally,
when they both thought everything
looked pretty much hopeless,
one weekend
they had a major "slip-up"
in the shower of their suite in
a major hotel. after, their
eyes shining like
four super-nova stars,
they said
to each other, and quietly, too,
just to heck with everything,
and moved back in together,
and
quietly lived,
life.
--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem also appears in my book Saline, published by Interior Noise Press in 2014.)
********************************************************
krebs cycle no ez A
"i masturbate a lot and i've never
masturbated alone in my
entire life," the masturbator-guy suddenly says to tex.
**
the masturbator-guy is real good-looking, too.
**
"oh yeah?" says tex, nervously.
tex is not exactly bad-looking himself.
they are in tex's college dorm room at the time,
studying microbiology.
**
"yeah," says the masturbator-guy. "even when i was just
starting out, i never masturbated alone.
always wanted to do it with somebody else around.
like now, for instance."
**
"er," says tex. "um," adds tex.
**
masturbator-guy whips out his cock,
starts masturbating. "we'll get back to studying
right after," says masturbator-guy.
**
"um," says tex. "um." tex is
nervous, and seems creeped-out. but tex doesn't look away.
**
soon, masturbator-guy goes off like
a rocket. sitting there in the chair right across from tex,
masturbator-guy whips off his shirt right before,
and then mops up his chest and belly
with a glob of kleenexes which
he then drops into tex's trashcan. so wet it goes "plop".
**
tex watches everything.
**
"your turn," says masturbator-guy. "and actually,
the idea is to jerk off at the SAME time i'm
jerking off."
**
"er," tex says. "this is too weird for me. let's
just get back to studying, ok?"
**
masturbator-guy zips up and puts his shirt back on.
then he and tex do get right back to studying.
"next time, you'll join in," says
masturbator-guy. "you'll see."
**
turns out masturbator-guy was right
about a whole lot of things that semester.
**
-- both he & tex eventually making
so much cream you'd think they were trying to answer
all the cumulative coffee prayers of the tired &
hungry masses.
**
at starbucks, they always chuckled. they didn't
take coffee back to tex's room, but
they could've, if they wanted.
**
next semester, the history of science.
--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem also appears in my book Riot Act, published by Chiron Review Press in 2010. The poem was first published in Zygote in My Coffee, Issue #68, October 2006.)
luck and trouble and the trouble with luck
most people who have ever tasted buttermilk
remember it. and they either loved it or hated it.
that funny sweet/acrid kind of taste, and that
odd rich smell. it left your tongue kind of greasy.
**
once, a sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
was outside wandering around in the dark,
kind of sleep-walking,
and kind of contemplating raping and murdering an
old lover of his,
and he stopped his walk,
and looked up at the sky,
and had a sudden craving for buttermilk.
he want back in the house,
got dressed, went to the grocery store,
bought some,
took it home,
drank the whole carton,
and then felt much much better.
he lost the will to rape and murder his
ex-lover. he lost the will to go
wandering around naked in the dark.
instead,
he sat down in the living room and
had a good cry. he felt LOTS
better after that,
and, after jerking off,
and spurting a hell of a lot of cum ("did
the buttermilk contribute to the volume
of the cum i spurted this time?" he
wondered),
he went to bed and went to sleep
and dreamed nothing, nothing,
thank goodness, nothing.
**
the next morning,
14 cows were found dead in a nearby
pasture--nothing to do with him, this time,
thank goodness,
nothing to do with him.
--Carl Miller Daniels (2011)
most people who have ever tasted buttermilk
remember it. and they either loved it or hated it.
that funny sweet/acrid kind of taste, and that
odd rich smell. it left your tongue kind of greasy.
**
once, a sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
was outside wandering around in the dark,
kind of sleep-walking,
and kind of contemplating raping and murdering an
old lover of his,
and he stopped his walk,
and looked up at the sky,
and had a sudden craving for buttermilk.
he want back in the house,
got dressed, went to the grocery store,
bought some,
took it home,
drank the whole carton,
and then felt much much better.
he lost the will to rape and murder his
ex-lover. he lost the will to go
wandering around naked in the dark.
instead,
he sat down in the living room and
had a good cry. he felt LOTS
better after that,
and, after jerking off,
and spurting a hell of a lot of cum ("did
the buttermilk contribute to the volume
of the cum i spurted this time?" he
wondered),
he went to bed and went to sleep
and dreamed nothing, nothing,
thank goodness, nothing.
**
the next morning,
14 cows were found dead in a nearby
pasture--nothing to do with him, this time,
thank goodness,
nothing to do with him.
--Carl Miller Daniels (2011)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)