Don Campbell
Message Massage What is there for a man and a woman to doBut to give one body to the other To mix souls to dance in the etherOf thoughts shared…
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Message Massage What is there for a man and a woman to doBut to give one body to the other To mix souls to dance in the etherOf thoughts shared…
Continue ReadingSacred In The Ordinary Satisfaction [on AM radio],car bathed by lovely purple rain, newly minted licensetucked Mama’s glovebox metal flask in jacket pocket,fresh condom inside wallet I am so totally…
Continue ReadingOld Adam Here's a conversation about temptation.The voices are oracles. Water and blood.Here, rivers of concrete. A new languageOf feeling is born. We breathe throughImmaculate ivory, ages deep air.Breath from…
Continue ReadingSeduction She wanted him brought, blindfold, thrown at her feetsubject to all her desires her whims,biceps bursting; submissive in defeatshe wanted him expended on aching forelimbs,his eyes unwrapped when drowning…
Continue ReadingMy Girlfriends Always Ask… …why must I meet him inthe sleazy Dew Drop Inn?Where the beds are alwaysunmade… off white, andreek of that dollar storebrand of laundry detergent.They wonder, why…
Continue ReadingPotassium Emojis for the phallus are in noshort supply: the eggplant, the carrot, the pickle,and the peeled banana. (Circumcised?) Sowhy does nobody sext the pencil?I’ll tell you why. Because I’ve…
Continue Reading#6 Open your hands and touch me/touch me hereShow me the exact spot/where your fingers areIt is the phenomenon of you/that I want to rememberTouch me so that/it will not…
Continue ReadingLove Sermons Shouldn't Be Given To Boys Without Shadows that night you told me you were in love with me,i kissed you to keep those words back in your mouth.love…
Continue ReadingI Will Meet You Post-Quarantine A kiss for the side of your neckOne for the last of your backFor a year that we couldn't meetI will meet you in DecemberAnd…
Continue ReadingFROM RUSSIA, WITH LOVE Lick the saltyred liquiddrawn from myexistential vagina.Take your fingerand paint my bodyas rouge as theedges ofRaskolnikov’s axe.Overflow me like thenewly-melted Nevaand make me howllike the packs…
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