December 12-18, 2005: Terence Doyle and Carl Miller Daniels

Terence Doyle and Carl Miller Daniels

Wallpenny Freckle I had a soft nose and you would squidge it Against your your tongue,lips sliding mouth over mouth And I was only ten Your name was Alison I used to pay you a penny for you to kiss me and in sunshine Up until you I played football and wheezed Phantom prains,ingrown toe-nails, Gallybanders across my back garden blazed There wasn’t much growing at ten But we got there How many lives did we collect In our faded jeans at the knees Armies we led,matchbox spiders we bled All we did was kiss My wallpenny freckle and I went back home Your face in front of me Growing and growing. Like Ptolemy Weather pitched against us in your dark ninth heaven, we sailed for islands more peaceful, No commotion When the traders came We bought tan lotion To block out the information the details and revelations Kept deep within the earth For that is where you hide your Angels of trajectory Spearing from fear targeting,tracking killing We have created so much In life there is time for that Our genes in mathematical compilation Pulsed out across vacuums Your face crimson in no sky but your own We’re alone with ourselves Man on the moon. And there shall come I have seen your enlightenment In the ferment at hand, Microscopic dust from the burning fields of your eye Import across the land, measured in tears I have experienced your awakening Succumbed to your languor and lush A world emerging previously hidden from me The seals broken, a new voice talking. My girl propped by thrillers, Spectacles misted from the Loire region Of your throat, drifting into memory, You, on your way there.

getting down to business perhaps the federation of adult sophisticates will address the problem of cute naked young men masturbating in the restrooms ** perhaps the society for the edification of gradiose principles will address the problem of cute naked young men falling in love with each other ** perhaps the united faction of virtuous factors will address the problem of cute naked young men touching each other’s big smooth hot cocks ** perhaps the great big amalgamation of united mistake-menders unlimited will address the problem of cute naked young men spurting cum into each other’s hands ** perhaps the legion of purified humanities proponents will address the problem of cute naked young men pairing off and moving in together and acting just like they are married ** perhaps the plotics espousing the politics of social and cultural propriety will address the problem of cute naked young men sleeping together in their warm soft beds and hugging each other all night long until they kiss each other awake in the mornings ** perhaps the bastions of bulwark societal excellence will address the problem of cute naked young men lying on a secluded beach, on their backs, looking up at the clear blue sky while they jerk themselves off, happily, peacefully, passion and penises their raison d’etre ** perhaps the forces of federal, state, and locality municipates will address the problem of cute naked young men kneeling in well-lit rooms, watching each other spurt cum toward the hat in the middle of the circle ** perhaps cute naked sexy young men walking hand-in-hand, in love, at ease, at peace, is the answer without a riddler, the solution without a problem-stater perhaps the magnaminous marmots of the greater metrolopolitan area should just plant strawberries, eat all they can, and sell the surplus better the busy bustler than the bustling busy ** with their smooth skin and their tiny nipples, they just can’t keep their hands off of each other sunlight on meadow picnics spread in celebration of joy, primal grace, flesh with passion imbued throughout ** perhaps the problem isn’t as severe as was previously suspected perhaps only 1 in 10 are involved and surely perspective is the essence of whitewater rafting. americana, pop-cultured at last it’s classic tv: when the walton brothers are upstairs fucking each other, and john boy himself (the ring leader) is squealing like a big ole happy pig, there will be a telephone call everybody will troop downstairs naked the phone call will be serious there will be a discussion brothers and sisters, mom and dad, grandpa and grandma, will all have their say it will be nearly 10 p.m when they get back to bed things will pick up pretty much where they left off again, they promise to quit this sort of thing the moonshine trade is lucrative mileage on the truck is purty low points in between the merrier everybody in that house has an orgasm that night john boy has 9, that big show-off.