Tuesday, November 8, 2016

'Books that need Burning'

Swirl, pinch, rocked in the dark.
Taken to brinks, edging and quilted floors.
Coaxing foreplay, floor-play, to play out
The dedication of the adventurous mind.
Hypersnap, the keys snatch regions
Enrollment on board,

Swigs of saliva,
Sent into that twin
To mirror the need of the night.

The new orders are in
The screenwriter pre-midnight
Wrings free of tightened ropes.
Delicate musings prime themselves
Aggregate longing bombards the shelves
Tearing down books that need burning
Did Socrates spend time fucking at all?
The Allegory of his Cave was misrepresented…

Ha. The muse tears away,
Laughter resumes, guttural.
Punctual, in time to interrupt
Some significant point that needs making.

This volume is thick, thick with feeling
Blowing out sideways as the words thicken
Grinding to make bones of bread.
Racing pulse, bang the gong of these times.
Licentious in their lusting.
Foolish, to think it possible
To outwit the waist of energetic longing.

These nights are lucid, grown longer.
Grown teeth to tear into arousal.
Watery eyes own these visions
They seek to find a counterpart
To weaken the counter-top
Bent on the destruction of unspent torque
Hiding behind knees, neck, and notions.

A nod to the delirium of Tuesday
To nick and needle the nose tipped down
Suggestive 5pm phone calls
Eliciting low vibrations that head immediately South;
Attacking me between the legs.

This night is long,
This night is stout-
This night has just begun.

No comments:

Post a Comment