all my life
i spent waiting
waiting for the words
i should have said
flapping the desperate wings
of conciousness

                           a drugged pig

waiting for some ineffable her
with wendigo lust
and my ship to come in

                           a woman grinning with a knife in her hand

waiting for a new transformed me
that could do math
better than a decapitated dolls head
and write obscene poems
in plyometrics
of self-presentation
to **** by

                             catching up with a future that will never
                               come          

and not do it all wrong
so disgusting becomes beautiful
in the portico
of some gothic ***-mare
dripping imagination
that bankrupts reality
in a fashionably pretentious way

                             the devils ***** flirting    

maybe disgusting is beautiful
in a fierce burning of ethical piety
and praising moral turpitude
where islands of *****
tuck in sweet wet mouths and ascend
under ***** glittering moons

                                   dancing stiletto's in a savage hula

i wait to understand myself and others
in dumb silence
but my shadow alludes me
without a private moment of the heart
and rigid architectural order
to give a pathology of poems
sparkling language

                                    to find the blood and guts of words  

my fumbling
a catastrophe
as i wait to get up the nerve
imagining myself smarter
taller faster bigger
writing better poems of unrequited lust
in wild cherry red asymmetrical verse

                                   hoola hoops and dragons

waiting to get older
and wondering why i always felt
like i was waiting for others to die
and finally to die myself

                                time flies when your dead

could i handle it
in its juxtapositions
and fatal discontinuities
as if i get to decide
so called
master of my own ship

                                 Andromeda crashes the Milky Way
its unnerving
so lets get this over with
although i hope death
doesn't happen too soon
even though i make frivolous ******
and slippery associations  
with her as she welcomes my
galoshes wearing
Trojan horse
over the moat
passed widened thighs
into her grand **** courtyard

                                           ****** feet with pointed toes    

Venus is never
completely happy
unless she feels
Pluto's edge
forcing her submission
in willing chains
from out of proms' blazing date
into a congenial poem
passed a cliché of grunts

                                        *** slave grovels to be corrected

but the waiting
for a fanatical delusion
of waking tongues
and self-destructive fury
is only sacred
when it burns like hell
on creaking beds
that rattle about the room
in this grove of infelicities
and tapestries of flame

                                             prehistoric clitori indulge ****** politics

a performance
in a rearranged reality
we can not understand