Bonny Doon
degenerates of the crags and the coves
we spoiled at the sunless feet of redwoods
.
a churning bazaar of golden slugs
our slow and sour stripping
.
of perception left us to navigate
an endless bed of wet needles
.
there was no containing the thrill
of moonlit rendezvous
.
our bodies caked in dirt
rose-naked and drunk with thirst
.
we drew in
the coniferous dew
.
what ecstasy of myth was unearthed
to concoct such exquisite smut
About the Creator
Sean Balogh
A lover of soft cheese and delayed gratification. I prefer plants to people, more often than not. Most of these words should find a home among the compost but hey, at least I'm still writing.
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