1.
This blue one is my favorite,
in the peak of ****** excitement
she calls me "Devil" between
sweet obscenities and tender bites
that lets me decide her species
a killer whale she is.
2.
I fell in love with this aspect
at the very first sight,
the easy buoyancy of the cuttle fish,
Ah! the delicate squid in my dreams
in her transforamtive  rigor of
peripatetic desire.Above me she hovers,
we are entangled with the strands of clouds.
In the soft poetic squid folds,
my desires find  discharge.
3.
Octopus, oh my perfect metaphor for desire,
are you strictly a fish by definition, I muse
though a mollusc, who cares, as long as your
supple tendrils, know how to touch and arouse
allow pleasure to flow through eight ducts,
would take you as the equivalent of a bisexual yen
in your tight binding  and sucker amour,
under water I am the  slave for your pleasure,
bleeding amour in equal measure
on each embrace.
4.
Gold fish is a cliche, but is it  her fault?
when  frothing orange morning sun
seeps  in to her spacious glass cage
she is another rich kid, seeking pleasure
and when she sings with her wings
dreamily moves, a pendent of Gods she is
my longing see the  cliche, yet oh! such  *** appeal,
my tactile desire, is more alacritous than being tactical.

The thaw begins with a drip,
builds to a roar, subsides to sunlight
prisms playing over every surface

illuminating still-wet velvet wings
maroon and yellow, neon blue
pseudo-bark underneath.

In the clear-cut, pink fireweed
pierces a sky alive with souls
reveling in their last year on earth

sampling nectar with newly curled
tongues while summer degrades
to fall, burrowing in the cool

damp cord of fir put up for winter
awakening in spring, tasting summer
before the reprieve, too soon over

time come to fold
battered wings, to slip free
of this mourning cloak and rise.