Hunting Ground

Lights shine artfully from towers that stab the night sky. That’s the key. The fill light seeps from lamp-posts and taxis and pedestrian cars. The darkness becomes the subject that’s framed in heroic personification.
Alley-bound prowlers become protagonists in the urban ballet of apathy and compassion. Smoke emits from gutters to languish. Ambition puts root down on street-corners, seeking to sprout adventure.


The Korean joint in the square vomits superstars into the downtown air. The courthouse leans on Howe, and around happy-go-luckies still desperately preening to the twilight chill.
Everywhere pulses with desperate desire. Everywhere thrusts. Men prowl the street. Women seek the light and warmth. Downtown is darkest jungle.



is this really me?

I’m not used to muscles
still the skinny lank-jobbed boy
who was so awkward with people
skirting age thirty now
packing on pounds
pounding the gym
power lifts and power squats
a beefcake
still and little meek
a little boy at times
not at home in one’s own skin
feel like a poser, a fake
a wannabe, fraudulent
trying to be what I’ll never be
unbelieving, undeserving

temptation sucker-punch

it was easy before
to ignore, to forget
the shape was easy to neglect
desire found purchase only in memory
now that shape was changed
and her figure is thin and hard
my eyes now linger
my thoughts draw
into new fantasies of lust
covetous, predatory, empty of feeling
exploding with passion
joys of hollow domination
over a young body
grateful and eager
wet and welcoming
and always quivering for more
give me the strength

young woman

your baby blues flicker on your baby face
you mischievous kitten
woman in the guise of a child
stumped limbs plumped with infant fat
betray a nature true
rich with sexual stirring
making me feel perverted
but the curve of your backside forming a perfect “S”
and the kinky flame burning in your sparkling blues
make me feel like a man on top of his game
but will I do it tonight?