Writer’s block
Blocked on the idea
Of what should be written
The rush to shush the shock.

Love stands naked de
Idealized it is taken
To its blankness to be
Withering alone white

Ness of its imperfection.
In the dead of the night
Time, slowly sings extinction
A painted sorrow in the sea.

Of its crippling cry
Sis and cis(ed)-glow.
By now it knows its eye
Is like a creasèd flow!

Love is afraid it is will
Ingly ugly, that doesn’t
Quite go with the thrill
Yes, it could dream yet it doesn’t

Let love melt on its own
Ed body now left alone!
It is filthy and during dawn
It’s just jittering for the john!

December 1, 2015
Lyon 2 University, France, 7:00 pm