postorbital Brancusi

the
sexy big-dicked young man
went about his chores in the
back yard. it was
a nice day, with lots of sunshine.
**
the moon was visible. in fact it was
nearly full. and readily visible in the
bright blue sky. that
was always a mystery to
the sexy big-dicked young man.
here it is bright daylight, and the moon
is visible.
he was sure this could be
explained by physics or astrophysics
or something scientific like that.
something he'd never
understand anyway. for him,
it was just a marvel:  the moon
by daylight.
**
when he sat down
at the kitchen table,
the tendrils of
the giant watermullafins
in the back yard
slithered on in thru
the open window,
unzipped his pants,
and wrapped themselves
comfortably around
his dick.
he tremendously enjoyed the
sensation as they
milked him dry of
his pent-up cum.
in fact,
there was so much
happiness in the room,
absolute
giddy-joyville pronouned the stacks of
steaming waffles, syruppy, and with
grammatically participatory
strawberries.
**
now,
the sexy big-dicked young man
is once again
in the back yard.
the moon is still shining, but
pale now amongst the clouds.
**
a butterfly
landed on his
ring finger, and
stared up at
him, and
everything
felt just like
love.
**
especially
the good parts,
where the
dick is still
a little drippy,
and smells like
the climate
in the terrarium
where the prettiest
ferns fiddlehead the
moss.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem was published in Chiron Review, Issue #122, Summer 2021.)