There are ways of eating pomegranates in Iran.
In Persia we soften the fruit by pressing into it hard,
Then we bite the flesh to release the juices.
With my lips on your not quite a clit,
Not quite a cock,
Your special swell of flesh,
Your knob of berry,
I suck.
Holding you down,
My palms flat upon your thighs,
Pressed down hard,
I can’t help myself,
And I growling nip your labia,
My teeth white and sharp,
Each bite causing your wings to engorge all hot and ripe,
You yell with pleasure,
I feel my cunt tightening and pounding.
We burst at once,
Our red, glistening seeds open,
Our hearts open,
Juices of our fruit streaming sticky sweet,
We shine.
Avery Cassell 
There are few poets around who can do what you do as well you do. The honesty, directness and sincerity of the work in combination with the great technical skill and control allow you to walk that fine line between the obvious and the artistic with wonderful grace.
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This made me so happy I can’t stop smiling. It just makes me want to print it, and crumple it up, and carry it around so that when I’m feeling down, I can squeeze it and feel better.
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