U dug

U dug my prose poem foresting sitting across the gerund of packages and bellies students with an A grade spreading her tauty cheeks for me with a telephone number to temptation O she wanted her to fall me, that is , to call.


and my prose pome was left waiting for your desire to bald the player and blandish the moment when the sonnets stilled stayed gathered around their bodies her desire her breast full in my mouth with a hump down room a loom of loving



but so poem was a half-volume vowel formations of the same are


to get past