SUCKING DICK INSTEAD OF KISSING
Perry Brass
Sucking dick instead of kissing —
too explosive, too urgent to get lips
on your lips — you pull me up
and thrust your tongue into my mouth
and say: "I want to drink your lips,"
while I want to suck your schlong
but you hold me close and drain my mouth,
like a bear slipping tongue into honey,
and we hold on to each other,
hardly able to stay on the couch
facing each other, and I hold your big thighs
and you stretch your long legs
around me and I feel suddenly
weak with happiness, now kissing you,
until each good thing inside me
dissolves into some revealed knowledge
*************************of you:
leading me out on a glistening path
into darkness, where we're alone
on moist grass, now sucking dick
*****************instead of kissing,
and the path finally reaches
a shadowed mountain veined with glass
that erupts into lava, into silver
as you take me many years away
from where I'd started; then it's over,
****************over too soon.
and I wait in your arms and shoulders — white, manly,
hairy like your back and chest — and you whisper,
"Say something," and I tell you now, speechless,
****************it was good; "Nice,"
that's all that I can say; everything else
************has been said for us
while sucking dick instead of kissing,
but I feel like I've fallen into a sheet of you,
and am just rolling there slowly
in your small apartment
with my blind anteater's tongue
on some sweet that I have found
in your deepest, most secret pocket.
Sucking Dick Instead of Kissing, Nov. 9, 1996
Dallas, Texas, on plane back to New York after
being in San Francisco.
From "The Lover of My Soul," a collection of poems, available at bookstores, also at the Foundation, or through my website: www.perrybrass.com.
PERRY BRASS' latest two books have been THE HARVEST, an erotically-charged gay science fiction thriller, that was acclaimed by critics as one of "The Ten Best Gay Books of 1997, and more recently THE LOVER OF MY SOUL, a book of intimate poetry and other writings.
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DRINKING TREBOR'S PEE
Gavin Geoffrey Dillard
To drink Trebor's pee
sweetened, with lemon over ice
would be a bastardization of the
Truth; one
dirinks Trebor's pee, like one
swallows Trebor's semen, hot and
directly from the fount —
or at least within minutes from a
favored mug or goblet.
I consume Trebor's pee the way I
consume Trebor's words, without
question or editing of my own
conceits; who
am I to challenge the visceral ejacu
lations of so worthy and proud a
beast?
I seduce; I consume.
I succumb, I am consumed.
Love is neither easy nor attractive,
wholesome nor sane;
When Trebor speaks, worlds are rent
askew, hearts pryed from their ossi
fied tombs; when
Trebor speaks my gonads quiver, my
scrotum tightens and my anus
convulses with the revelations of a
burgeoning dawn.
Who am I to challenge this mystic-
eyed mongrel; I
set out my bowls, plates, and watch the
varmit pick and choose from my
table —
if I am lucky he naps on my sofa be
fore wandering back to his sacred
wood; if I am
lucky he stops to feed me from his
trove of used poems and found
objects; if I am truly
lucky he does not bite me but re
sponds to my caress with a
sigh or a low growl,
and I know that I have fed Trebor some
thing he can use,
that my offerings have been
accepted —
and this is more than enough for
one small lifetime.
GAVIN GEOFFREY DILLARD is the author of seven collections of poems and editor of BETWEEN THE CRACKS: The Daedalus Anthology of Kinky Verse. His tell-all Hollywood memoir, IN THE FLESH: Undressing for Success, has just been released by Barricade Books. He lives in Northern California where he writes songs, librettos, and jingles for Disney. |
