Tag Archives: erotica


Like a strobe light,

my nipple flash from my

bra cups,

overflow of myself and my softness.

He seizes me with his smart hands.

He knows what to do.

He will tease my peaks

and stroke my heart in

small, deft movements.

This is the game we play—

him catching me over and

over again like a ball.

I throw myself into clothes,

then shed them like unwanted baggage.

It is dark at the fringes

of my lomographic mind,

and in the center is my man,

plunging into me like a

lamp into an outlet,

completing my loop.

My hips squeezed in the

straps of lingerie,

I wait breathlessly for that

meaningful motion of his

hands tugging my panties

down just a little,

giving me permission to

unwrap myself

in his mute language.

My fire begins at my neck.

The beginning of pleasure

presides over the creased

space between shoulder blade

and ear.

That is where he starts—

at the beginning—

wise to my whimsical womanhood.


The soft lassitude

of a day parked by the fire,

like a car primed for a

make out session between

secret sex singers.

A leg soft and gently


an arm resting on the



a sea of hats I wear

to greet the constraints

of time and truth.

Fingers graze my nipples,

a hand cups my belly.

I have harvested the

secrets planted in my

garden long ago,

and they sit in a vase

drinking heavily from

their water.

She is my mirror,

but softer and more

at home with placid


The glass fell away from us,

and now we interlace in

front of a fire cooler than us.


My eyes

Without permit.

Thrill shivers beneath my surface.


Light candy.


Stripping pink silhouette,

Like wallpaper,

Like lover.


My cloak is a cloud,

Dark, and rolling over me as a storm

over a fruitful plain.

Call me by my needs.


Can you tell where I’m going,

All finesse and shard?

The space between my thighs

A confection.

Untitled 69

Among the piqued daffodils
my body of silk.
Nothing has touched me
but a phantom with a ribbon.

The friction of lace on my
lowest, basest secret.
The clouds are pearlesque,
my skin a pearl casing I wear
because elegance is getting
cheap as talk.

Born from my animal mind,
her breath cascades
over my breasts.
Her hands peel the lace sweetly,

Careless Skin, Uncivil Eyes

My hair is easy to please –

Satiated with soft careless skin

And uncivil eyes.


The ships on the river

Corrected correction.


Love goes with you.


Your hands glaze me with pride,

a good disease.

Your teeth write me in anger ­­-


Your kiss a knife in another dialect.

In the river,

The dead wash themselves among the stones.


Your pretty lips alight on my breasts


Your hand is on my belly,

taking my soul away.


Between the rippling river reeds,

A timeless photograph

of vice and virtue.

Dominated by a Day

Tomorrow lies in my bed
As rugged as a coast.
I marvel at the sleepiness of my fist.
Where has my fight gone?
Has it left me for another woman?
A woman with more steel in her back,
a chest of gravel?
Tomorrow hums,
Brawny and blue and wastefully.
I adore extravagance.
He wants to tell me what to do,
I luxuriate in commands.

I am no longer holding my dice.
They burn in the green fire writhing in the corner.
This is not my game.
This is not my life.
It is time to surrender.