10th AVENUE ON A WET AFTERNOON

Onyx streets refract light
and reverberate city sounds,
to reveal in emotional thought
that dream of Oz urbanized.

NEPTUNE SPEAKS

(NASA sounds of the planets)

Neptune speaks to us
as we knew he would.
In swirling blue gusts
of cosmic winds.

Close your eyes and
dream in this “white noise.”
What visions come to your
“mind’s-eye?”

No man-made Zen chants
can equal this mystical and
mind-soothing piece.

A solar system sonata.

©TPuma/MMXII

BOYS

I watched a half dozen boys
rough-house on a lawn.
Shirtless and bare footed,
they played their version of football.
After the ball was passed
and caught (or not),
they would pile onto each other.

I recall my 12 year old self
and that same scene,
when I felt a nascent
sexual attraction for
my team mates.

I was curious,
which of these boys
would leave this game,
with awakened feelings
of more than just football
on a summer afternoon?

©T.Puma/MMXII

GUNNISON

At Gunnison Beach
I spent the day,
a beautiful place
and oh-so-Gay.

But after I had
several beers,
the beach seemed to be
crowded with Queers.

THINKING ON A WEEK-END (EASTON MTN.):

A scenic drive in the rain.
Hours of conversation.
Sleeping under the stars.
Wearing a Sarong.
A half-day of music.
Spirituality.
Surfer-boy.
Paul.
Powerful Orgasm.
Melancholia.
Nervous breakdown.
Too emotional.
Tired.
Happy.
Wet.
Miss.
Return to reality.
(there must be a poem in here somewhere???????)
Love.

ISO

Do you like flavored Vodka drinks?
Getting out on the trails?
Are you at least post-twink?
And, please don’t tip the scales.

Making love at mid-night,
sleeping under-the-stars.
Not a “Duddly-Do-Right”,
not descended from Mars.

So, call Tony Puma,
no Cougar he.
Also, please no Drama,
if so, “C’est la vie”.

Oh, one more thing to say,
be a passionate guy.
Because Tony is gay,
poetic and “I-Ty”.

*****************************

The Woods Campground/TP/MMXII

SENSE OF TOUCH

I feel your deft touch.
My mind tries to resist
the sensation, to no avail.
I submit.

Fingers, palm, hand,
move ever so lightly
over my half-slumbering
self.

Synapse awaken my
drowsy body.

From the nape of my neck
to the crack of my ass,
you travel.
I raise my hips,
craving more.
(Am I dreaming?)

Gently I am turned
on my back.
As lips, tongue, teeth
replace your hand.

A warm-wet
touch of velvet
descends on my
nipple.

As your mystical
fingers caress
my genitals,
and your finger
makes slippery
circles

I am brought
to the edge
of the precipice:
or is it a
slippery-slope
I descend?
************