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.)