A Warm Wet Kiss in the House of Incest

My poetry book, A Warm Wet Kiss in the House of Incest, will be published soon by Ophelia Press. The poems are gathered from the past eight or even ten years. I don’t write poetry much but sometimes the Muse Bitch  rubs my noggin.  It is 90 pages of verse.


Here are two for preview:


First Kiss


His first kiss was like candy cane

in December, sweet and hard

w/ all the promises

of Santa—or is that Satan?


I’m talking tongue in my mouth

not a peck on the cheek

or a dab on the lips


I’m talking exchanging saliva

& touching me between the

legs and making me wet


Daddy, kiss me again.

I miss that touch; that embrace;

that feeling of comfort and love.





First Penis


it looked so ginormous

from my



a pulsing purple head

the little hole for pee-pee

thick veins that seemed alive

like Medusa’s snake hair


“strecth,” he said,

“you can do




& he did




my best friend’s father,

smelling of stale beer

& adult semen,


he took my cherry

& made me bleed

only to find a need

I didn’t know

was there.


I became jealous of

my best friend, because

she had this big daddy dick


& I did not (yet)


she would tell me

in secret

how she sucked the milk

from his gianormous

love machine


how he tried to get it in

her butt


how much she hated it,

never knowing I craved




when her daddy loved me

during stolen moments


of sin and warmth

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