Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

To the liquor of your laughter / And the lacquer of your limbs

October 29, 2015

Yesterday’s offering from Daily Jocks (with a caption; notes to follow):


At first it was spectral, ghostly,
Visible only in blue light, at an
Acute angle, scarcely a real
Body part.

Gus stroked it into
Life, gave it color, fun color, took it
From infracorporeal to
Ultracorporeal, crackling with
Energy at all frequencies.

Power in a pouch.


Boy in the sand

September 25, 2015

A Daily Jocks ad, paired with gay-erotic poetry (definitely not for the sexually modest), then with a series of notes.


Boy in the Sand

He erupts from the surf, his skin
Tangy with salt, his cock rising, his balls
Heavy with his seed. We kiss, I am a
Sea anemone, roiled by desire for him.

I stroke his wet hair, follow the
Arrow of his widow’s peak down his long torso,
Down to his sweet belly, girded by
Hard muscle, take him in my mouth.

We trade, he takes me, opens me with his
Wet fingers, I need him in me. Fuck me,
Cal, oh fuck me, fuuuck me! He

Mounts me, panting heavily, fills me in
Long slow muscular strokes.
Breeds me. Gets me off ferociously.

I become a sea creature like him,
Dive into the surf,
Return to our ocean.

(Notes after the fold.)


The Monthly Underwear Club

August 11, 2015

(Mostly about men’s bodies. Not much language.)

Today’s offering from Daily Jocks introduces the Monthly Underwear Club:

Fresh underwear,
Every month.


Dick Absalom used to deliver for
The Fresh Veggie Club, but then
He decided to follow
His name.


Found poetry

August 11, 2015

Some publications (many science publications, in particular, and the Economist) are given to language play of all types in their headlines and lead paragraphs. Sometimes, though, they just seem to luck on bits of found poetry. Here, from the New Scientist of August 1st, p. 15:

Than Steel in Water

Icy balls fall faster
than steel in water

(Summary: Ice-coated tungsten carbide balls matching solid steel balls in size and weight fall faster than the steel balls when dropped into water.)


Claude Funston thought …

June 28, 2015

Today’s Zippy, with a parody of (part of) Lewis Carroll’s “The Walrus and the Carpenter”, from the (mostly political) dreaming mind of Claude Funston:

The parody reproduces the recurring /ɪŋz/ rhyme of the original, once as /ɪŋz/ (the things of the original), three times as /ɪŋ/.


Get ready for an ambush…

June 11, 2015

(On the underwear and gay sex beat, not much about language.)

The heading on yesterday’s ad from the Daily Jocks people, with this arresting image:

The ad copy:

Presenting the all new Ambush Singlet from Cellblock 13!

The nylon/spandex blend singlets feature dual zippers on the front and back for easy access, and perfect for in the bedroom or out.

Available in red, yellow, and blue.


Poem for hot February day

April 22, 2015

The illustration: today’s offering from the Daily Jocks people, with a poem.

The doomed hustler

Mid-February eruption of heat,
Everyone on the street, stripped
For the weather.
A near-naked vision, no
Shirt, no shoes, no
Underwear, just low-slung
Blue shorts: lounging expectantly
Under an awning, offering
A hustler’s name, no name,
Changed for each john. But
No johns come: he’s
Hombre sin hombre.

A personal poemorse

April 15, 2015

Iamb Trochee Dactyl …

From off
I heard them —
Their trunks aloft —

Elise Partridge

March 24, 2015

The story starts with this poem about X in the April 2nd issue of the New York Review of Books:

X, a C.V.

I stand, legs astride, a colossus—
or dancer in fifth position, wide port de bras.
Polymorph strayed into English,

sometimes pronounced like Americans’ z,
in French I’m often silent; in Pirahã the glottal stop;
a fricative in Somali.

Vector, Cartesian axis,
chromosome, bowling-strike. Pirate-map cynosure;
at a letter’s close, a kiss.

I do plebeian duty in tic-tac-toe,
range marble façades. Paired with y, I dodge—
variable incognito.

I lend myself to comets of cryptic orbit,
ally with rays that pierce time’s edge.
I’m default sci-fi planets.

In my Roman hours,
I was ten.—Later, the name of millions:
those never granted an alphabet’s power.

Then I read the contributors’ notes in the NYRB.


Poets in Their Youth

February 28, 2015

Recently reissued: Eileen Simpson’s 1982 Poets in Their Youth: A Memoir (Random House), a wonderful recollection of poets John Berryman, Randall Jarrell, Robert Lowell, Delmore Schwartz and others in their circle (R. P. Blackmur, Jean Stafford, and more).

(On the cover: a young Berryman, Stafford, and Lowell in Damariscotta Mills ME.)



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