Who are you? Scott Thomas Outlar spends the hours flowing and fluxing with the ever-changing currents of the Tao River. He hosts the site 17Numa.wordpress.com where links to his published poetry, fiction, essays, interviews, and books can be found.
Anything else we should know? I have two new poetry collections forthcoming in 2016: “Happy Hour Hallelujah” (CTU Publishing, August) and “Chaos Songs” (Weasel Press, September 1).
I pleaded with you from the beginning to tread carefully so as not to manifest any miracles in this old, worn out heart that could cause the blood to quicken its pulse or overheat within such withered veins underneath my flesh.
I begged of you from the first moment that our eyes met across the distance to not sparkle so brightly or smile so divinely because the threat of love might create a conflict in this war-torn spirit that’s known only solitude for oh so very long.
But you, my dear, in all your infinite wisdom, simply never listen.
Back to Basics
There was blood on my tongue from the bite that you laced into its flesh while feasting as lust dripped in heavy drops between the drenched silk sheets where we crashed in sweaty waves through the night.
There was fire in your eyes from the match that I struck against the sweet spot of your thighs as my lips sought the pulse of skin where heat throbbed in electric shocks to draw me closer to a clench that burned with release.
There were moans in the air mixed with gasps that escaped from the eruption in our lungs born of raw passion from below that roared with primal red desires to tempt the fate of ecstatic animal rage.
Happy Hour Harbinger
Broken waves collapse in the predawn sky as a hallelujah tide hangs in the balance of heaven’s precarious grip, and the old gods rage for control of the scales that begin to slip from the slope of karma’s cancerous kiss.
Judas’ poisoned lips press against the cheek of righteous revelation as the venom roars with a desire of inflamed decadence, and the constellations burn in tune to the tortured cries of weeping and wailing erupting through the gnashed teeth of despair.