How about distribution, Another ******* poem To and About "love," and aspirational ***. Lip metaphor: A thick paperback flipped through both covers in a momentary fluttering; I love that sharp sound. Can we break the law a little? The one that we made without words, and no acknowledgement was needed. -So we'll only break a few, The one that keeps our lips apart; our individual pages each being read one sentence at a time, maybe passed around the party to obtain a variety of opinion for the same smooth structures. So needy for an affirmation, you, all of you, all of us. All of Our ******* lovepoems and lovers. Misery a lot- Don't pretend you arent enjoying it, you masochists, writers. About ***: Take them off, just take them all off-leave no room to guess, I will not dare aspire toward my fiction. Or else leave them on, and sit here, and lay here, lie here, sleep here, wake here, leave here unviolated by my hands-but keep yourself dressed.