slip down my rainy ash parade, 
makes paste, makes pigeon-feather pillows 
like smarties all a-smother in the snow, 
and me, i like neck-ties, nooses 
(i like it when you hand me cuffed 
to the bed, and you run your, oh, your tongue 
up the inside of my thighs and down my 
back, and, oh the way you kiss my feet, 
how's heaven sound like for dessert) 
pissin' penny dreams away, 
we'll show the world that the way we think 
may not be our usual thinks but, you're not seeing 
us as people, just as costumes in an old parade...

quiet
by Nicole Kline

quiet. thick, like a duvet. 
tucks us in at night. bad dreams, 
bad dreams. i thrash. quiet. 
cold, like m-m-marble. touch my lips, 
but doesn’t defrost. i shiver. 
quiet. smooth, like my skin. 
touching yours. naked. making, 
making you. no love involved, 
no love, passion. quiet. 
intimate, like lingerie. tight 
to the floor. when we’re in, 
we know it. we’re out. 
quiet. final, like sunset. pink, oh, 
so pink, with yellow. paints my city, 
like dali. paints my heart, paints words, 
i’m cummings. but quiet, those quiet sunsets, 
just pave the road for night, 
to paint her sunrise, 
paint her morning. 
(she knows she’s ending, but remembers 
to begin again...she’s got time. she owns forever.)

gripping 
by Nicole Kline

the way you look at me, even in
a crowded room, sends shivers
down my spine...like you just
ran a single, soft finger up the
inside of my thigh, or gently flecked you
tongue against my temple, taking a slow
tour of my face.  and as you walk closer,
i can feel every breath you take...
like you're exhaling on my naked
skin, blowing your beauty on my
stomach, in my navel, around bare breasts,
stopping to admire nipples.  and as you
step to me, gripping my neck and 
kissing me softly, i'm lost in hazel passion
sweet and sensual...and i make love 
to you all day.