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He has

Curly Jewish leg hair

Not like his

Straight dark hair

thin calves

but strong.

Curved buttocks

Thick, up to his smallish back


and smooth.

Olive skin

long nose

dark hair

dark eyes and lashes

so long

so thick

luxurious and luscious and lusty.

Your middle name shall be lust

and I’ll read the spaces between your letters

and tear you with my passion.

Rise for me

as the waves rise to the moon

I’ll be your lady of the night.

My pale round curves thrust up against your dark 

straight lines

as the curved, waning moon does press against

Her nightly lover;

the rich, foreign sky.


You are my man

be my lover

and let us proclaim our love

as the moon and night do:

With shameless abandon.


Reveal to me your passion,

man with the olive skin. 


Inconstant Man

Like the ebb and flow of rough water on fragile rock,
I am approached by Inconstant Man.

Growing and increasing,
we tackle the earth in a crushing bear hug,
squeezing our unforgiving morsels out of its green, giving life orb;
owing nothing, but lending all.

Lending all
because in some way
it will take it back.
We will want to take it back,
and nothing will be left but our memories,
Creeping and crawling through dank, dusty drawers
in our forsaken houses,
standing in burnt fields,
on an empty, estranged earth

which we sat on with our mind-numbingly dumb asses,
our shit spewing over and into crystalline rivers and brilliant forests.

Inconstant Man,
who once valued every grain of sand,
every molecule of supremely superior life,
Builds marring pockmarks upon the cherubic cheek of this planet.

We will fill the air and soil with our vomit
And claim we have
“done well” and
“changed lives” and
“lived successfully”.

But what is well, and changed, and lived
when what we leave is a small, stone-colored earth
in the midst of a universe of awe?

Our arrogant faces turn to numerous white bones,
Almost all the same besides our teeth,
but who will know when our dental records fade and fray with the rest of our civil society?

We are Inconstant Man and we consist of an inconsistency so inconceivably large, so insanely insatiable, that we are blind to our own inconstant
And that is the only thing that’s constant.