Oh, that love
in the loneliness
of adolescence,
oh, the violet
overflowing
with perfume and dew,
fresh as stars
over the face,
those kisses
crawling over
the skin,
entwining, biting,
from bodies clear and open to
the blue stone of the sailing night.
–Pablo Neruda, “Loves: Terusa (I)”
When I let my hand climb,
in each place I find a dove
that was looking for me, as if
my love, they had made you of clay
for my very own potter’s hands.
Your knees, your breasts,
your waist,
are missing in me, like in the hollow
of a thirsting earth
where they relinquished
a form,
and together
we are complete like one single river,
like one single grain of sand.
–Pablo Neruda, “The Potter”
“In S/M sex each seeks to open as much as possible, to push past the limits to turn each other on so intensely that there is no possibility but full satisfaction, not just physically but emotionally & physically as well.”
And when God gave out rhythm
He sure was good to you
You could add, subtract, multiply and divide by two
I know today's your birthday
And I did not buy no rose
But I'll sing this song instead
'An I call it Popsicle Toes
Popsicle Toes
Popsicle Toes are always froze
Popsicle Toes
Oh you're so brave to expose all those Popsicle Toes
You must've been Miss Pennsylvania
With all that pulchritude
How come you always load your Pentax when I'm in the nude
We ought to have a birthday party
And you can wear your birthday clothes
We can hit the floor and go explore
Those Popsicle Toes
Popsicle Toes (ooh)
Popsicle Toes are always froze (ooo ooh)
Popsicle Toes (wah ooh)
Oh you're so brave to expose all those Popsicle Toes (ooh)
Don't 'cha know you got the nicest North America
This sailor ever saw
I'd like to feel your warm Brazil, touch your Panama
Well your Tierra del Fuegos are nearly always froze
We got to see-saw until we unthaw
Those Popsicle Toes