The Feed

The willow leans, bends

Her darkening bosom over

Anther of the bloom.

~ Basho [Englished by Phillip Whidden]

We hesitate to think how many breasts

Of women bent above his heart to take

Him in below, how many begging chests

With bobbling nipples then began to shake

As he thrust upward towards their hearts through guts,

Again, again, again, AGAIN until he shot

His essence in their darknesses, the butts

A-flopping in shared passion till she shot,

She shot, she shot her slime through slippy lips

Down into pubic hair, that thrusting hair,

That thrusting, thrusting, THRUSTING up near hips,

His lusting driving love tool nearly spare.

Spare, crazy, he crammed in his eight inch seed

Deposit drawn and shared in screaming need.

©  Phillip Whidden