These poems are by others, collected from the rec.arts.poems newsgroup, which contains gems among garbage...

the lover

he is a mapmaker,
tracing my scored-glass face
with menthol-tipped digits
from years of inhaling smoke.
my lover is a baker, pumping
berries into pie. his face,
camel-brown angles, lush swings
and landforms-
scrubbed-fruit clean with shiny cheeks.
copper-woven hair in ribbons
over one clear eyes. chinked calves
like summer squash to thigh slivers
and up to a straight lean box.

It Goes

- for Danny and Johnny

no, i won't question why it is i hover,
or ask when i shall again come down to dirt.

don't need to ask if you like what you see,
or if you think the woman of me entrancing.

everything we sustain belongs between us,
and i know you know i know we own it.

as you reveal your tendrils with the seasons,
your teeth grow fast to my skin without tending.

i eat you madly, a child, locked alone in a candy store,
knowing i can never be too fat or sick with sweetness,
since each new kiss guilelessly replaces the last.
your sweat and smile are the only religion i require.

twelve months twenty and two

it is far too simple a thing for us
to dive back into familiar pools,
our arms outstretched blind daggers
of no peace, whose concrete bottoms

have grown no gentler than
twelve months twenty and two ago.

and for every damned night laid out
like corpse beneathe gable'd rooftop
over studio flat, each second peeling back
the sadness with a hot blade,

the old love contemplates
a clean white telephone.

the old love, she conspires.

-nelson,1995

***This man runs another literary site, Godhead is Dead.