Salim Gold

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Introductory

 

I don’t fear explication!

These poems are about her, naked, and I, nude.

I’m not flaccid, and she’s not prudish.

 

(How silly is puritanical preaching!

Everyone knows that those clerical barkers,

Closeted, submit to swinish practices.)

 

My fiery Muse is a searing beauty!

Her limbs are dangerous—like Eden’s tree:

To try them is to be changed utterly.

 

Love is for artists, all others it spurns.

I’m as insatiable as is ink for words.

(A poet’s poor who doesn’t love.)

 

Sweaty breathing—the glare of wet—the glaze

Of light—that’s us, as you, dear reader, read.

 


Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

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