the rules

This poem is not
an autobiographical detailed tell and kiss
confessional of last night's dick stick story
this poem is mostly not
a clothed soft porn masturbatory exhibition
of the poet's isolated gratification story

however
this poem is horny
this poem has gifts of sweet peach
chocolate soothing down the jewels
for ears pooling from rivers in thighs
this poem wants shakes, aches pinches of pre-lovetouch
nowtouch
love and afterlovetouch
breathing deeply
how –you- could- take- more -heat –in- touch

so
so ya meet this poem and
find your middleparts
a little fired up
your usually covered parts
begging to be ungarbed tied up
tied down spread wide rubbed to town
touched and lied down upon
perforated dissipated dominated celebrated

so ya want all parts to be thinned
liquefied and poured into the body and the arms
of another
or to just plain get laid

well
just as poem is born from poet,
this poem's suggestions implications images

whose legs may or may not appear to be wide valleys

does not necessarily reflect the immediate desires of the poet and are not,
unless otherwise specified,
dedicated to
or intentionally presented to
any particular individual or individuals at any particular time.

This poem strongly encourages
mature respectful and incredibly juicy animalistic encounters
between one or more previously but perhaps presently pretending not to be
consenting adults
in the comfort of their own home, grainmill, graveyard, office, helicopter, hiking trail, swimmingpool, or racetrack

this poem does not recommend performing these acts
in the following places
while driving a car
near a stove, particulaly one that is currently cooking bacon,
on a table with broken glass
or on, around, or in the company of the poet
at place or at any time
unless specified otherwise
yes
this poem is woman
of which she is a part but does not represent

this poem is for man
to whom she is devoted but does not belong

this poem is for human
from which she was born
and whose sacramental skin she dances upon joyfully
singing the sacred song of her sex
twirling down the tube that sits at the very top
of every heart
stopping the wheel of taboo hamsters perhaps spinning trough the
mind with names like Jenna Jameson and Barely Legal Hot Blonde Cumshots

this poem does not throw the stripper out with the dance
this poem is the hymnal marriage that pulls one to another in a trance
down to the bottom of soils beneath soils
healing the feeling
of shouldn't ride this pelvic press
realing the feeling
express,
express

this poem wants every orifice
every holy hole in her body to be simultaneously
penetrated saturated

this poem wants be pushed with desire
and to hear the pop of love melting from her skin
because if there's anything that's more sacred
than the womb asking to contain young
the yin asking for the yang
if there's anything more pure precious divine
and worthy of our respect
it's birth
or maybe death

which comes from mine
and comes from your
sex which
sprouts from this poem's chest
like vernal cottonwood buds
and falls from its limbs
to garden our minds growing
a new intimate view
of what our urges those passion surges
are here to do
to unify me
to unify you
with the double-helix
weave of creation design
of wholeness with space and
wholeness with time

right about the time
when we choose
to unclench
all we were taught and
all that we thought
the rules to be