Sonnet 104 - A spot of poontang on a five-foot piece

 A spot of poontang on a five-foot piece,
Diminutive, but room enough .
 .
 like clay
To finger eager on some torrid day .
 .

Who'd throw her black hair back, and hang, and tease.

Never, not once in all one's horny lease
To'have had a demi-lay, a pretty, gay,
Snug, slim and supple-breasted girl for play .
 .

She bats her big, warm eyes, and slides like grease.


And cuff her silly-hot again, mouth hot
And wet her small round writhing—but this screams
Suddenly awake, unreal as alkahest,
My god, this isn't what I want!—You tot
The harrow-days you hold me to, black dreams,
The dirty water to get off my chest.

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