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the
Alexine poems
note
1
festering
lily
with
a tampax
the
smell all depends
how
long the wee
beastie’s
been
in
the wee furry hole
how
long I’ve been on the road
from
fuckwick to nowhere
how
much golden cider
I
have dreamt leaking
to
wake in a golden atlantic
as
the ten o’clock sun
splits
the crotch
of
our squat’s window
and
it’s time for this mouse
wee
nae bit timorous beastie
to
beg for its breakfast
some
change mister
or
I’ll come on to ya
and
give ya a feel
note
2
lullwater
I
love the flow of you
the
heave and the gush of you
the
hungry high thrust of you
upon
my tongue
my
love.
I
take your eyes into mine
pinch
your nipples to a spike
run
a cultured nail past your navel
to
the beginning
of
it.
I
love to watch your mouth open
my
love
as
I use your wet,
your
wet yet again
to
arouse it,
the
stiffened wee bud.
I
love your tongue helplessly bloating
as
I coax the spot inside you
fingering
the walls wide open
pulling
the hot drench,
steaming
and streaming ,
the
free fountain, the waterfall,
your
torrent of lust
out
again
my
love
poured
on my face and my tongue.
note
3
my para
when
I finger his cock
I
dream of him
rough
and heady
KLA
IRA
smoking
his toke
with
his digger hand
and
squinting
his
thin raisin-stubble face
over
the smoke of the
mortared
slopes
dreaming
of what he’d do
to
a girl like me
if
he found her
in
a pocked poxy house
like
my cot
enemy
or not
Alan
Marshfield
note
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