Howard Firkin
No. This is soft. Until you’ve felt it
you don’t know how.
The diving through the clouds
the hill and valleys folds seen from the air
the grey the wet the inparticular.
The tongue follows grooves
it slides
between these soft, wet lips
between these thoughts of you
between these folds
egg white of memory
between the creased land mass
the hill and valleys folds seen from the air
How soft? How hard?
Gel soft. Downy gel a
diving through the clouds.
The white the wet the inparticular.
The liquid clitoris, a drop.
No. This is soft. Don’t stop. This is soft as brain fuck.
you don’t know how.
The diving through the clouds
the hill and valleys folds seen from the air
the grey the wet the inparticular.
The tongue follows grooves
it slides
between these soft, wet lips
between these thoughts of you
between these folds
egg white of memory
between the creased land mass
the hill and valleys folds seen from the air
How soft? How hard?
Gel soft. Downy gel a
diving through the clouds.
The white the wet the inparticular.
The liquid clitoris, a drop.
No. This is soft. Don’t stop. This is soft as brain fuck.
