Run, don't walk, over to Zeitgeist Press to pick up your copy of The Horizontal Poet, the new collection by Jan Steckel. It's moving. It's sexy. It's funny. It's everything you want. Here's her poem "The Rose Grew Round The Briar" which originally appeared at Full of Crow.
How do your red pubic hairs
end up on the window sill,
my black ones on the crown moldings?
Do you do even weirder things in the bathroom
than I thought? Do curly hairs waft on
hot-air currents from bathroom drain to ceiling?
Do they hitch a ride on a bath towel,
and flip free heavenward
when you snap it at my ass?
I found one in the pantry, curled lasciviously
around a piece of high-fiber cereal,
another on the TV remote.
I don’t want to think about that one too hard.
I lie in bed and stare at two high on the wall
above our heads, a black and a red.
Are they having an out-of-booty experience?
When we die, will they form a true-lover’s knot,
and float up higher and higher?