Thinking hard, hardly thinking (poetry)

Warning: Erotica

Thinking hard hardly thinking

Mouths replace fingers replace words
until there is no intersection left
the point of no return
and all that is impractical, handsome
was borne from streetlights.
Drowning in the milk white of her throat,
he exhales her name in
the fits and whispers
that befit
a half drunken hope
his cigarette
their solitary burn.
If the pavement knows
it doesn’t speak a word of it
what is
what is


  1. Figured I would venture where no one has ventured before and tell you that this poem is fabulous, and props to you for sticking it out on the internet where peoPLE CAN ACTUALLY READ IT OMIGOSH. (This from someone who also writes poetry and occasionally puts things on the internet where people can actually read it omigosh.) Also, while I’m at it, your whole blog is freaking rad. Go you.

    – Another one of those 4 million people who wandered over here from the ‘perfect wife’ post. Only I stayed and subscribed and stuff. 😀

    • I missed this and I’m SO sad I did. Thank you so much—sometimes I wonder if I should go back and remove all the stuff I wrote in the beginning (when I was younger and wilder and more in crisis) but then I would have the joy in connecting with you on this level. So I’m keeping it. You helped convince me. xo


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