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POEM #4
1.
She feels my balls against her cheek, Im sure.
I stand my cock straight up and touch it there
Against her face and wait. Her eyes are pure,
Without regret, and misty, but look to where
My dick is not. Beyond the world of men
Where life and death are both the same,
Two awful sides enjoined to see which can
Oppose a moments stillness more, a game
Whose shrieking shrillness ends in quiet stares
And open mouths alone. In mouths like hers.
And yet my dick and she are free of cares
And very much alike, since both have sores,
Are velvet soft, and never will succumb.
I strike my dick across her teeth and come.
Epistle to Terri
Between you and me, Terri, the world outside
is hardly worth the effort. Those whod matricide
you, I mean, infanticide you since like a baby
soft and pliable, you bend, like a turd, maybe,
in supple hands, a pale albino turd they know
you spend much too much time at the window
and never will put it all together. Two plus two
is four, so Terri, this means this means you.
A while ago perhaps when beauty still adorned
those smooth, retarded cheeks, when forlorn
and forsaken your poor husband discovered that
hed never hear you bitch at him again and sat
mercilessly down in front of your wheelchair
and wondered aloud if he would ever put it there
between those thighs again and breach that pussy,
well, maybe it was easier to keep you alive to see
just how itd all turn out. But you sure fooled them, Terri.
That pert, spiked nineties hair gave way to hairy
dry lips and underarms. Your arms curled up. Nary
a dick could fit within those palsied hands, Id say,
though Id try it since as Jesus says, loves okay
and Im the only one who takes him seriously.
I dont care if youre brain-dead, Terri. Mysteriously
enough, were a lot alike. Only youve got the eyes
a goldfish has. I keep my eyes cauterized
and pointed downwards since were surrounded
by enemies who dont think theyre enemies, who act dumbfounded
if you dont laugh when they laugh,
and who stare sometimes as a frightened calf
would stare, a retarded meat-machine
with eyes as far apart as yours. I mean,
just moments before, they lashed out
like little children, twisted-faced, that sneer and shout
and gurgle piss through squinty eyes when theres
not a dick to plug the hole. But wheres
your hole, Terri? God above gave you another.
No, thats the one that came from Mother.
The one right there thats in your throat,
upon which, like a husband, I would dote.
Formulas and
Spells
involved in the
Resuscitation and
Resurrection of
Terri Schiavo
I poke the roof of your mouth with the head
of my dick.
Like Heraclitus stream, the mouth that takes all comers is also
the pair of eyes, unchanging, that remains adrift.
You ought to have a Playboy spread.
Only itd be two panels, instead of three.
Because of the wheelchair.
A NE NA QUESTO
fidelio
baboons heat
can you see pink
in this optical illusion
the illustrious sign
of the closed Illuminati
priestesses who gaffe
timeless
in a way
John Holmes
was not a giraffe
but a poor fellow
whose grandfather
was a dowser
2^2
Two
by
Two
is
buttcakes
for
you