Moo Sonnet
Your absent heart's the image of my need
Your hollow eyes I fill with my desire
These vacancies are all that I require
For food on which my fantasies can feed.
The hands that hold you here are undefined
The lips that kiss you now you must invent
My touch transformed into an argument
That finds its major premise in your mind.
We make of soundless tunes new harmonies
Embrace each other's fancies in the night
And find in these uncertainties delight--
We share, not selves, but possibilities.
I make myself your dreams though we're apart
Come fill the empty spaces of my heart.
Proud Mary
She was proud:
Her needs sufficiently fulfilled,
She came to moos to talk and build.
She was married
And scorned her married sisters who
Were taking lovers on the moo.
She was intrigued
He had a way with words, she said--
A way that led her to his bed.
She was surprised
At how erotic text can be
That words could stir such ecstasy.
She was sure
That what she did here was mere play
And yet she sought him night and day.
She was obsessed
They traded photos, talked by phone,
And planned how they might meet alone.
She was hurt
When he found others pleased him more
And vowed she'd even up the score.
She was wild.
She slept with Guests in Entrance Halls,
In twos and threes, on shackled walls.
She was known.
Till new arrivals sought her out
To learn what love here was about
She was proud
Of what she learned by ranging wide:
Some needs lie deeper than mere pride.
A Programmer to His Love
The lips that kiss you here, the hands
That touch, are nothing but commands
Whose programs, as true lovers woo
Contend for precedence in queue.
And so we play, when we connect
To lie on one another's breast,
The power games of love that test
Whose need to love is most abject.
This test of will you're bound to fail
Though you've the finer mind and prose;
I have the power of one who knows
The code, and here I will prevail.
I bid you wait, I bid you wake
At times and places I will choose.
The power of love will bid you lose
All that you have for my love's sake.
Androids
A friend of mine here recycled
himself for love or what he called
love, and was dead to the moo world
a week. I predicted he would
return here, and of course he did--
our dead here are not really dead,
we have Hell, but its fires don't burn,
nor, though we have sex, are we born--
we are androids, are born and die
only as text, bits and bytes. Do
what you will with us, we feel no
pain, though features give us many
phantom feelings, though we mistake
our needs for passions, erotic
text for acts of love. We believe
no one suffers in games of love
like these, so if you fear you would
you'd best avoid this android world.
Semester Break
Semester break has taken all
Our lovers from the net
Some say they'll write, some say they'll call
Some do and some forget
They've left us on the net alone
And won't be back till spring
While waiting for the telephone
Let's have a little fling
For they're with real life lovers, dear
While I am here with you
So let me love you truly here
Until vacation's through
A Heavenly Hound
Her Lambda lover was the best
At bringing her delight
But he must study for a test--
He's off tonight.
She found a Guest who sounded strong
And took him home to bed,
But when he brought a friend along
She @quit instead.
Her friend at Chiba had a date
Already when she paged.
Although he asked, she would not wait
To be assuaged.
At last by looking moo to moo
She came to PMC
And with no better man in view
Made love with me.
Love Half Blind
They make this world their play
And weave each other's dreams
Till distant nighttime seems
One common day.
With thighs of words entwined
They moan upon the screen
With ecstasy half seen
By love half blind.
The world which held their heart
Now seems a living lie
To those who only sigh
And lie apart.