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Captured in your moment Of disheveled disarray, Hard between your fiery desires, And my burning gaze, Driven by both our wishes, Your glistening fingers Trace pathways of delight. Follow your pleasure's progress, Beside you, holding you, In your climactic song Of moans and sighs. • Donovan Baldwin

When we go out to play Our purely natural Sunshine games can Be continued back inside Be played in the dark, Not for shame but, Sometimes, oh yes, Trust me on this, It's just more fun to Play slap and tickle Under the sheets, In the dark, Touching and Tasting our way, Along the paths Of carnal desire, Innocent fun With no goal in sight Except the pleasure Of loving pleasure itself, And, if, if, The ultimate pleasure Puts in an appearance, Then the more merrier are we, And gladly tired too, you bet. • Dononvan Baldwin

seeing the virtues loving the entire person... accepting the flaws • Donovan Baldwin

no one else to blame if my life's been difficult... it's my own damn fault • Donovan Baldwin

In the Delphian night an owl cries Evoking ancient memories Writ deep in blood Raising runes of mythic fears Upon the trembling flesh As the fearful sound echoes Against the choral background Of wind, or other unknown creature, Moving darkly through The silently watching forest. • Donovan Baldwin

I drift within my mind As falling snow Seeking earth Chooses to ride The wind a while, Whispering lewd tales Learned from brushes With slender naked limbs Of bare black trees dancing Seductively still upon Moon's white silver floor. • Donovan Baldwin

We only work with words, We poets do, To sing, To draw, To point, To link, To loosen that which must be free. We only work with words, We poets do, As best we can, As they come As they go, Or stay, Emblazoned on our souls. We only work with words, We poets do, So variable, So insensible, So certain, So unsure, So real, So lying and yet, because... We only work with words, We poets do, We love, We laugh, We sing, We praise, We demand, We defend, And sometimes... We fail. For... We only work with words, We poets do, And words are clay, which, Though molded properly, And sure and glistening at first, May slump or turn drab, In the heat of day and sight of men. We only work with words, We poets do, And ask the reader to read, What was in minds and hearts, When set upon the page, With eyes like ours, Who saw the sun and sky, And tried to sing its praises, But missed the mark. So too, with love, and honor, and courage... Read our tales with piety and pity, For the round-shouldered scribe, Trying to make beauty out of letters, For... We only work with words, We poets do, And must leave the living, And understanding of our work Up to you. • Donovan Baldwin

FEATHERED FURIES DIVE THE BEAST SOME FROM THE WEST, SOME FROM THE EAST "Begone! Now leave the seagull's land, You are not welcome, child of man. You've taken lives ere they began, You've smashed our eggs hid in the sand." He raises up his BB gun, Blinks as his eyes brush past the Sun. Holds and squeezes...down falls one. He runs to see what he has done. "Now gone a year, and gone a friend. The tale unfolds without an end. As man-child joins the ranks of men, But, others come to hunt again." Feathers gray and white, now red, The eyes are closed, the bird is dead. One instant in the man-child's head, There comes, then goes, some unnamed dread. "They learn from us, from how we die, As from us they learned to sail the sky. There are a few, as years pass by, Who sometimes learn to heed our cries" HE LEAVES THE BEACH ON LEAN, BROWN LEGS, BEHIND DEAD BIRDS...CRUSHED SEAGULL EGGS.

Before us came many, Too many to count. Many have been evil. Many have been good, And kind, loving, caring, Doing the best they could, Who they were, Where they were, When they were, Too many to count. After us come many, Too many to count. We are here, now. Choose your history. • Donovan Baldwin

we crackle and burn hot desires leap mind to mind... a carnal wildfire #donovanbaldwin

her tiny bud curled heated by his bold desires... petals unfolding • Donovan Baldwin