Treasure Island

Is It Poetry

(1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)

freed her lips


'oh daddy' just don't hurry;
wash it off 'oh look dad'
and pig kinky 'pink flying piggy
your finger, arcs the sky'
as one finger moves it back against,
i see my back against the wall
and a beautiful woman or the hand of the nymph
her water- where it swims
pushing hard against her heart
up closer, full and wide between
and freed her lips
they milk the sky
feathered out and made of glass
crystals of the light i see and after i smell it
i taste it
a caged bird
she made of me and inbetween it
my/why love i lay you now in sleep so sweet
green hay and soft hay
it is sweeter than the moon inside her gown
she is the ocean deep in silence let it sleep;
is it in her poetry
sexy momma, each azimuth
can you see the air i taste the air or smell the air or not.

Submitted: Thursday, February 18, 2010

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