Coming and I Did Not Run Away
STILL not finished review
but productive day and feeling
GÜT
like a fine mama
SHÜT
putting down some
RÜTS
like the lost queen
TOOT
TOOT
TÜT TÜT TÜT
Brand spankin hanky pankin
new periodical
in my uterus
yest I cried
thought I was going
NÜTSO
Not So Ah so? yes it was just
a periodical
making me illogical
not wrong though
I was not wrong
I saw the “usual turn of phrase”
coming and I did not run away
I lay around
This Is A Fucking Poem
don’t expect too much.
Well I expect you to go into the
fucking human tunnel
I’m going.
pink grimy glossed
entabulature, welted
and tattooed. Enfolded in
ropy ceiling-hangings
but it isn’t a room,
and bumblingly sliding
out, little legs of
a little girl, bum on the wall/opening
pink legs sticking out like a
hermit crab’s, she’s coming!
shudder out the little-girl
legs with a little
girl head mostly eyes, no ears,
bug brain, aimless
Send her to school
It’s cold, and where should she
go, she will eat her
legs with her mandibles
her eyes will retract inside.
Stroke her riding hood
Settle down, little
nobody will hurtcha
by breaking off your little legs,
six little legs,
if you come.
Among the Orders
“Who if I cried,” says the homeless man about to fuck the homeless woman under
the expressway river overpass
“Would hear me among the animals bipedal
in Oxford, Ohio?”
Not I, says the author.
What I assume you shall assume.
“We are not fucking for us then, we’re fucking for you.”
You’re fucking so I can work out what happens in the poem when you fuck.
“Postmodern we could
wander off—”
Then who will fuck you.
The difference between “That feels so good”
and “You’re being so good.”
Homeless, you can’t be good
there’s no slot for you to fit it
to fulfill our hopes for you
if we had any.
Shut up disappear, that would be good.
“Good” if you don’t sleep in the doorway.
His cock is beautiful though
his body gray dried skin and dirt
his cock is clean, and his stomach and chest
are saggy and bones, but the cock is vibrant pact
of blood.
He saw her masturbate, he waded to her
she regarded him, eyes whiteglow
against dirt and in the streaking
light
Galumph palindrome
She put her hand on his tightened and pulled
him toward her on the ground
her head barely out of the water
rising between
the rooms I was washing.
