A Poem For The Author Joseph Mills and A Poem For an Imaginary Emo Prostitute

poem joe

you are a dark face that i can only feel through the moist clay as we sleep beneath the soil
i reach for you against the hairs of roots
and 
dead animals
possums
raccoons
abandoned pets
they whisper your name to me in the crushing dark
i can feel
i can feel
i can feel
the stabbing rootlets
the straining hairs of 
fungal microrhyza
(connecting your roots to the minerals of the Earth)
stabbing 
infecting
infiltrating my flesh
i have never 
never can see you
but you have put 
your juices
thoughts
xylem phloem 
flowing violent
the dark corners inside me

i have been watching your shape
in the movement
of the 
dirt

(i don't think you know how much...)

poem who

oh matthew
20 - 32

think about logjams
you look beautiful in that avatar pic
dark birds trapped in celophane
their shiny black feathers scrape the dust from my dead skin
and 
i grip over ripe fruit just for the feel
of cold wet flesh 
giving way
in my hands

(shhhhhhhhhhh)

smile when you cum