I'm hobbled on the peppered trail by the putrefying complexities of
neo-modern, civil wedlock, all the crooked **** & all the cold ****
Waking up is hard to do.

Lay it on me. I'm all reconstructed ears.

You must have a baby. Pregnancy will align your priorities and provide for you a stake in the future, genetically.

The beautifully-touching & spiritually-perfect poems I write for you
no poet'll surpass, so shut your big mouth & climb down off my ***


I'm a gandy dancer to the end of the line.

A pubescent monkey'll rip its owner's face off. No monkeys & no helicopters & no scalpels below the belly button for me.