From the anthology, Complaining to the Clock, a work in progress.
Your Eyes Are Like Magic Marbles Your eyes are like magic marbles made of blue sky madness, they draw my sharpest senses inward rendering me helpless to your red devouring lips, which pucker with a blinding instinctive intensity, as with silent snakes seeking a cooler ground, hidden inside a hotbed of conniving bulrushes; your perfumed presence bringing out deliriously a powerful draw upon my protruding screaming loins, as if you had stolen my lapping eyes and tongue unseen, rendering them completely to the burgeoning sky beast, that now swoops down with grasping talons of arousal; as you sprawl before me with plumes of mad impulse; we lie naked, moist and spent; two lovers embracing, forgetting about time and trouble as living human beings. Your eyes are like magic marbles.
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