Audio cover

$15

00:27

Undress Me by Michael Faudet

Vera Lee avatar
Vera Lee@chaoticmagister
All that you write,
it's not right,
you move me
with written suggestion.

I know it's absurd,
to be undressed,
by a word,
write me more
write me more--
make me yours.
All that you write,
it's not right,
you move me
with written suggestion.

I know it's absurd,
to be undressed,
by a word,
write me more
write me more--
make me yours.
Expand
15
00:29

Pressed Flowers by Michael Faudet

To the quiet one, the coy, the wallflower. Her dark circled eyes buried in a book. Hard little nipples, dusty pink, beneath a tatty black singlet. Those restless legs, sprawled across a squeaky bed. Her secrets kept, liked pressed daises hidden by pages read.

15
00:42

Lust by Yusef Komunyakaa

If only he could touch her, Her name like an old wish In the stopped weather of salt On a snail. He longs to be Words, juicy as passionfruit On her tongue. He’d do anything, Would dance three days & nights To make the most terrible gods Rise out of ashes of the yew, To step from the naked Fray, to be as tender As meat imagined off The bluegill’s pearlish Bones. He longs to be An orange, to feel fingernails Run a seam through him.

15
01:07

Love Sonnet XI by Pablo Neruda

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps. I hunger for your sleek laugh, your hands the color of a savage harvest, hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails, I want to eat your skin like a whole almond. I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body, the sovereign nose of your arrogant face, I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes, and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight, hunting for you, for your hot heart, like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.

15
00:24

Drink You by Tyler Knott Gregson

“Can I drink you, to wake me, swirl you in my mouth, on my tongue, and taste you like honey, a drop or two? keep your coffee, your tea, give me you, give me a half sip of ecstasy.”

15
01:02

Basket of Figs By Ellen Bass

Bring me your pain, love. Spread it out like fine rugs, silk sashes, warm eggs, cinnamon and cloves in burlap sacks. Show me the detail, the intricate embroidery on the collar, tiny shell buttons, the hem stitched the way you were taught, pricking just a thread, almost invisible. Unclasp it like jewels, the gold still hot from your body. Empty your basket of figs. Spill your wine. That hard nugget of pain, I would suck it, cradling it on my tongue like the slick seed of pomegranate. I would lift it tenderly, as a great animal might carry a small one in the private cave of the mouth.