I wrote a poem you'll never see –
a masterpiece; it took me weeks.
I love you and I wanted you to know.
I achingly described your lips
with tender, breathless craftsmanship;
it was a soulful, sinful epic wracked with lust.
Poetry herself, intrigued,
shook her head in disbelief;
no mortal girl could ever love so much –
and so, enamored by my words,
she decided to ****** you first.
I'm sorry, lover, but she had to go.

Woman

     as the

object

     of my

                  desire

you are

      much

                   less than human.

I cannot

       ((let))

you be

yourself;

                   I do not have the

power

                   to give my

permission.


To be

objectified

          is to be flawless;

you are imperfectly

                     warm, soft,

flesh and blood.


I am

          sick and tired of

object

                    lessons.

come, teach me more
of what real is.

I got my daughter a dog.... AND
she loved it... AND
its name was Rex... AND
she slept with him in her bed... AND
one day Rex got sick... AND
I took him to the the vet... AND
turns out Rex wasnt a dog... WHAT?
JUST A BIG ******* RAT

You're a solar system,
and I'm a rogue cosmonaut who
(having fallen in love with you  through a telescope)
has built a ship from the salvage
of lesser explorations;
now I spend my days
(or nights— hard to tell)
looking at you, chin in hand,
waiting for a place to land.

June evening, mid-sigh,
she holds a finger to her
lips, then to the sky;
pools of sundown flood the fields.
She trusts the breeze to find him.

utatane ni
koFisiki Fito wo
mitesi yori
yume teFu mono Fa
tanomisometeki


As I dozed
The man I love
Appeared, so
It is dreams that
Have begun to comfort me.

I was a shy girl.
Some boys found my quiet ways
as inviting as
dappled groves in shady woods
(where each one ached to take me).

-lights out-
fall, hands a-clasped, into instantaneous
ecstasy like a shot of ****** or morphine,
the gland inside of my brain discharging
the good glad fluid (Holy Fluid) as
i hap-down and hold all my body parts
down to a deadstop trance-Healing
all my sicknesses-erasing all-not
even the shred of a 'I-hope-you' or a
Loony Balloon left in it, but the mind
blank, serene, thoughtless. When a thought
comes a-springing from afar with its held-
forth figure of image, you spoof it out,
you spuff it off, you fake it, and
it fades, and thought never comes-and
with joy you realize for the first time
'thinking's just like not thinking-
So I don't have to think
any
more'

The taste
of rain
—Why kneel?