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In the Plaza by Louise Glück For two weeks he’s been watching the same girl, someone he sees in the plaza. In her twenties maybe, drinking coffee in the afternoon, the little dark head bent over a magazine. He watches from across the square, pretending to be buying something, cigarettes, maybe a bouquet of flowers. Because she doesn’t know it exists, her power is very great now, fused to the needs of his imagination. He is her prisoner. She says the words he gives her in a voice he imagines, low-pitched and soft, a voice from the south as the dark hair must be from the south.… 阅读更多内容

The Encounter by Louise Glück (1941-2023) You came to the side of the bed and sat staring at me. Then you kissed me - I felt hot wax on my forehead. I wanted it to leave a mark: that’s how I knew I loved you. Because I wanted to be burned, stamped, to have something in the end - I drew the gown over my head; a red flush covered my face and shoulders. It will run its course, the course of fire, setting a cold coin on the forehead, between the eyes. You lay beside me; your hand moved over my face as though you had felt it also - you must have known, then,… 阅读更多内容

Untitled by Franz Wright This was the first time I knelt and with my lips, frightened, kissed the lit inwardly pink petaled lips. It was like touching a bird's exposed heart with your tongue. Summer dawn flowing into the room parting the curtains-the lamp dimming-breeze rendered visible. Lightning, and then soft applause from the leaves... Almost c h1ld r€n, we lay asleep in love listening to the rain. We didn't ask to be born. Franz Wright, “Untitled,” Earlier Poems (Alfred A. Knopf, 2007)… 阅读更多内容

Violet Myers and Isiah Maxwell in Blacked, April 2025. Violet Myers is one of those girls who can divide fan audiences. She is short, blessed with amazing curves, and her thickness varies as her weight fluctuates, perhaps caused by her monthly hormonal cycle, perhaps by her diet. She is a sensuous feast of a woman. She is also blessed with an ability to talk dirty and not overplay her reactions on set. Her body is free of tattoos and these days she has a lovely triangle of bush. In her latest Blacked scene, we open with the lovely Vioet, home from a stopping spree, trying on her haul… 阅读更多内容

Why Hollywood keeps the penis out of sight David Titterington Dec 21, 2018 Hollywood has a strange relationship with the penis. Or rather, Americans have a strange relationship with the penis. Peter Lehman summarizes it best: “In order to take narrative cinema’s powerfully ideal male body seriously, we must not see its literal truth.” In Running Scared: Masculinity and the representation of the male body (2001), Lehman points out that there are only a few reasons Hollywood films will show the penis: as cringe/a cruel joke (if it's small), as a phallic spectacle (usually shrouded… 阅读更多内容

Phallus Alec Derwent (A. D.) Hope (1907–2000) This was the gods' god, The leashed divinity, Divine divining rod And Me within the me. By mindlight tower and tree Its shadow on the ground Throw, and in darkness she Whose weapon is her wound Fends off the knife, the sword, The Tiger and the Snake; It stalks the virgin's bed And bites her wide awake. Her Bab-el-Mandeb waits Her Red Sea gate of tears: The b l 0 0 d-sponge god dilates, His rigid pomp appears; Sets in the toothless mouth A tongue of prophecy. It speaks in naked Truth Indifference for me Love, a romantic slime Th… 阅读更多内容

Vagina in the Vatican by Pat Ingoldsby (1942-2025) A vagina sneaked into the Vatican. It crept past the vagina detectors. It tiptoed into the very heart of the rules and regulation section where all the Cardinals were sitting around in circles making rules about times of the month, thermometers ... The little vagina sprang out suddenly and shouted – ‘Peace be with you! The Cardinals all replied ‘And also with you’ because none of them had ever actually seen one and they hadn’t got a clue what it really was so they gave it cups of tea and chocolate biscuits ...… 阅读更多内容

Sex Without Love By Sharon Olds How do they do it, the ones who make love without love? Beautiful as dancers, Gliding over each other like ice-skaters over the ice, fingers hooked inside each other’s bodies, faces red as steak, wine, wet as the c h 1l dr en at birth, whose mothers are going to give them away. How do they come to the come to the come to the God come to the still waters, and not love the one who came there with them, light rising slowly as steam off their joined skin? These are the true religious, the purists, the pros, the ones who will not accept a false Messia… 阅读更多内容

First Sex By Sharon Olds I knew little, and what I knew I did not believe–they had lied to me so many times, so I just took it as it came, his naked body on the sheet, the tiny hairs curling on his legs like fine, gold shells, his sex harder and harder under my palm and yet not hard as a rock his face cocked back as if in terror, the sweat jumping out of his pores like sudden trails from the tiny snails when his knees locked with little clicks and under my hand he gathered and shook and the actual flood like milk came out of his body, I saw it glow on his belly, all they had s… 阅读更多内容

The Knowing by Sharon Olds Afterwards, when we have slept, paradise- comaed, and woken, we lie a long time looking at each other. I do not know what he sees, but I see eyes of quiet evenness and endurance, a patience like the dignity of matter. I love the open ocean blue-grey-green of his iris, I love the curve of it against the white, that curve the sight of what has caused me to go over, when he’s quite still, deep inside me. I have never seen a curve like that, except our sphere, from outer space. I don’t know where he got his kindness without self-regard, almost without self… 阅读更多内容

[Intro] I'm coming [Verse 1] Night falls, heart beats They fall in love Moon rises, earth arches My gates are open [Pre-Chorus] (Hey!) I am Erika Welcome! You Are like gorgeous Trance God Just make yourself at home Do what you want And when you come I'll come with you [Chorus] (I'm coming, I'm coming) And before you come I hear you screaming (I'm coming, I'm coming) And to that, I scream Out loud, "I'm coming" (I'm coming, I'm coming) And together we come And be like (I'm coming, I'm coming) It's like that When you fall in love (Wonderful!) [Verse 2] I… 阅读更多内容

Wild Nights by Emily Dickinson (1830 –1886) Wild Nights – Wild Nights! Were I with thee Wild Nights should be Our luxury! Futile – the winds – To a heart in port – Done with the compass – Done with the chart! Rowing in Eden – Ah, the sea! Might I moor – Tonight – In thee! ABOUT THE POEM: Emily Dickinson wrote this passionate lyric in 1861, when she was 31, but it was only after her death, that it was published, in 1891. Emily and Susan had first met in 1850, when Susan began a courtship with Emily's brother. That led to marriage and Emily lived next door to Susan in the new… 阅读更多内容

Ode to the Beloved’s Hips Bells are they—shaped on the eighth day—silvered percussion in the morning—are the morning. Swing switch sway. Hold the day away a little longer, a little slower, a little easy. Call to me— I wanna rock, I-I wanna rock, I-I wanna rock right now— so to them I come—struck-dumb chime-blind, tolling with a throat full of Hosanna. How many hours bowed against this Infinity of Blessed Trinity? Communion of Pelvis, Sacrum, Femur. My mouth—terrible angel, ever-lasting novena, ecstatic devourer. O, the places I have laid them, knelt and scooped the a… 阅读更多内容

Places by Willyce Kim I dreamed you. I waited 45 years for you to find me. I have nothing to give you But these places I have been. I own no home. I carry my life with me In boxes on my back. Sometimes when you look at me I want to show you Everything. How the stars turn in the night sky over Santa Fe. How snow falls like filigree through a blue moon. How a slice of sweet Hawaiian Mountain apple between your lips calls forth the forest it was plucked from. I want to take you places You have never been. With anyone. I want to tell you everything… 阅读更多内容

When I Was Straight by Julie Marie Wade I did not love women as I do now. I loved them with my eyes closed, my back turned. I loved them silent, & startled, & shy. The world was a dreamless slumber party, sleeping bags like straitjackets spread out on the living room floor, my face pressed into a slender pillow. All night I woke to rain on the strangers’ windows. No one remembered to leave a light on in the hall. Someone’s father seemed always to be shaving. When I stood up, I tried to tiptoe around the sleeping bodies, their long hair speckled with confetti, their f… 阅读更多内容

For Willyce by Pat Parker (Oakland, 1978) When i make love to you i try with each stroke of my tongue to say i love you to tease i love you to hammer i love you to melt i love you & your sounds drift down oh god! oh jesus! and i think— here it is, some dude’s getting credit for what a woman has done, again. ABOUT THE POET Pat Parker was born Patricia Cooks in Houston, Texas, on January 20, 1944. The daughter of a tire retreader and a domestic worker, she grew up in poverty. After graduating from high school in 1962, she moved to California and received a BA from Los Ange… 阅读更多内容

She was aware that the men's eyes had begun to glow. Their faces were rather tense. Mario made a movement. AImost immediately she saw his erect penis, larger and redder than the wooden phallus. 'It's now time for illusion to yield to reality,' he said. 'Let your hands be as tender to flesh as they were to in- animate matter.' She put the article of worship in the hollow of a branch - she did not dare drop it on the ground - and obediently took hold of his member. He turned to face the squatting men so that they could see better. Time stopped. No one made a sound. She remembered the 'humani… 阅读更多内容

God/Love Poem by Lenore Kandel there are no ways of love but/beautiful/ I love you all of them I love you / your cock in my hand stirs like a bird in my fingers as you swell and grow hard in my hand forcing my fingers open with your rigid strength you are beautiful / you are beautiful you are a hundred times beautiful I stroke you with my loving hands pink-nailed long fingers I caress you I adore you my finger-tips… my palms… your cock rises and throbs in my hands a revelation / as Aphrodite knew it there was a time when gods were purer /I can recall nights among the ho… 阅读更多内容

THE WORD by Dorianne Laux You called it screwing, what we did nights on the rug in front of the mirror, draped over the edge of a hotel bed, on balconies overlooking the dark hearts of fir trees or a city of flickering lights. You'd whisper that word into my ear as if it were a thing you could taste--- a sliver of fish, a swirl of chocolate on the tongue. I knew only the rough exuberant consonant of fucking, and this soft s and hard c was a new sound---querulous, slow, like the long moments of leaving between thrusts. I don't know what to make of it, now that you're gone. I… 阅读更多内容

So bashful when I sp1ed her by Emily Dickenson So bashful when I sp1ed her, So pretty, so ashamed! So hidden in her leaflets, Lest anybody find; So breathless till I passed her, So helpless when I turned And bore her, struggling, blushing, Her simple haunts beyond! For whom I robbed the dingle, For whom betrayed the dell, Many will doubtless ask me, But I shall never tell!… 阅读更多内容