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February 2025 Newsletter

Many Distances

by Angel Hogan

The problem with the heart, a tool of time, is want can never speak.

-Willis Barnstone

And then there is this offer of a mouth

A layering of tongues

Teeth breath, lips, with-with – – –

Barely an idea, a trick

Flickering in the corner of your eye:

Your lover awaits life from your gaze

Your breaker baits a heated barb

Your beloved dies and rises beneath you

Your keeper sinks to your hips

Your warden walks the mighty yard

Your sweetie stays in the strange

Your crush stands in the wind

Your mistress lifts one aching calf

And bites the tender skin.

Now there are fingers

A layering of flesh,

The almighty touch, a whisper…

Now a flame:

Your lover says your name

Your honey sets the blaze

Your teacher wets your belly

Your partner parts your thighs

Your escort knows your secrets

Your precious lights your skin

Your guide finds you adrift and tangled

Then sails you home again.

Poem was published in Sensual: A Unique Anthology 2013 Volume 2

Purchase here: https://www.amazon.com/SenSexual-Unique-Anthology-2013-Erotica-ebook/dp/B00BA8ZGVY/ref=sr_1_3?crid=2CTUCHOTNHJR2&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.iQxTPlMAj76BUOY62_DfLEPPNRHGAf9P4BoZ0K3mQ-qi4CSnWIIBuR7nZac05rikIAZx93TRLWYsJDW7Zj1OqQ.iCETiI_tPDdbzVtmRDbZl7btGrdGQb0ax3nHAQoIReY&dib_tag=se&keywords=Sensexual%3A+a+unique+anthology&qid=1740157539&s=books&sprefix=sensexual+a+unique+anthology%2Cstripbooks%2C94&sr=1-3

January 2025 Newsletter

Leda

by Joe B-.

After Cesare da Sesto’s copy of Leonardo 

It drives a mortal man to tears

And outrage at his mortal luck.

I haven’t gotten laid in years,

And this chick does it with a duck?

OK, so he’s a feathered god

Who’s got a knack for bestial sex

And tons more cash than some poor sod 

Who lives on unemployment checks.

But, by Jove! It’s a crying sin

The way those strands of hair came loose,

And her dippy, post-orgasmic grin 

Announcing, “That was one sweet goose.”

His eyes beg for another treat.

He pats her fanny with his wing,

While, glancing shyly toward her feet, 

She strokes his throat like it’s his thing.

Someday she’ll buy a cockatoo,

Some parakeets, and a canary.

She’ll spend her weekends at the zoo,

Jilling in the aviary,

And all the hatchlings from this tryst,

In years to come, will grope for words,

Describing to their therapist

Mom’s traumatizing love for birds.