Ok, sewa, here's a cock poem written by the late Canadian poet E.A. Lacey.
EGGPLANT
Eggplant, beringela, aubergine, melongene, boulanger, babaganush, baigan, juicy names, full of labials and linguals, luscious voiced vibrating consonants
-what is it that they remind you of?
See them glowing darkly on the corner fruit-stand, or in great purple piles at the downtown market,
fruit of the Latin, Semite, Hindu and the slave, fruit of the dark hot peoples, third-world fruit, lustrous long cylindrical protuberances, so black that they glow bluish, like Nigerians,
Take one in your hand now, squeeze it, feel its thickness, length, it's spongy yet unyielding quality
-what is it that it reminds you of?
Peel it, boil it, mash it, eat it now, soft cream - or green-coloured, laced with sesame seeds and oil,
thanks for your kind comments: it's great to have to write something every day, as am chronically dilatory / love the xy idea: i am interested in where and how on 365 people put their mothers and is there a code for this......
The poem is from his book "Path of Snow" -- a sort of travelogue about his time in Central and South America. Out of print but probably available at abebooks.com
15 comments:
Aw...
For "XX" we get a lovely paean to clitori, but for "XY" we just get hugs and kisses? I was hoping for a celebration of phalli!
Ok, sewa, here's a cock poem written by the late Canadian poet E.A. Lacey.
EGGPLANT
Eggplant, beringela, aubergine, melongene, boulanger, babaganush, baigan,
juicy names, full of labials and linguals, luscious voiced vibrating consonants
-what is it that they remind you of?
See them glowing darkly on the corner fruit-stand, or in great purple piles at the downtown market,
fruit of the Latin, Semite, Hindu and the slave, fruit of the dark hot peoples, third-world fruit,
lustrous long cylindrical protuberances,
so black that they glow bluish, like Nigerians,
Take one in your hand now, squeeze it, feel its thickness, length, it's spongy yet unyielding quality
-what is it that it reminds you of?
Peel it, boil it, mash it, eat it now,
soft cream - or green-coloured, laced with sesame seeds and oil,
-what is it that it reminds you of?
Food is sex is race is history.
thanks for your kind comments: it's great to have to write something every day, as am chronically dilatory / love the xy idea: i am interested in where and how on 365 people put their mothers and is there a code for this......
Deloney, I'm actually blushing.
I didn't know I had any blushes left in me, at my age.
Lovely, lovely poem. And dizzyingly hot.
The poem is from his book "Path of Snow" -- a sort of travelogue about his time in Central and South America. Out of print but probably available at abebooks.com
Right around "nice" I thought I can do better than nice. You pushed me. Thank you.
I do believe you've broken the world's record for longest kiss; previously it was 30 hours, 59 minutes, and 27 seconds.
Helen: Still kissing, but I hope to come up for air soon.
I hate such gratuitous public displays of affection. Unless, of course, it involves nudity.
And torrid sex.
All nudity aside, when will we hear from you again?
Yes, the beauty of blogging is that you can do it stark naked and no one is likely to comment...
Helen, for godsake, get some clothes on.
Bridgett, I hope it won't be too much longer before I'm back here, although I'm having trouble even keeping up with my READing.
Well, almost no one...
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