Friday, March 23, 2012


People seem unpeopled
feeling only aboutness
thoughts about themselves.

For example:
You’ll have a vagina so I’ll talk to you.
I’ll say, “orgasm is not a verb,”
and you’ll say I “need some technique.”

as postmodern American couples
(circa 1975)
were wont to do,
we’ll work at it (like fondu),
we really will, punching a time clock
for an hour every night
for months, decuntstructing your cliterature,
breaking down our psychosexual geography
how we actually feel about my penis
determining your sexual organism
(not orgasm), beyond its context—
seams a thang that t’aint titself too purty—

Nor’ll it bring this
bored he-dog much joy
‘cause I take my sex slow
and serious, seeing it
(verily, I might add)
as no laughing matter!

“Poor baby, I love you,”
I’ll whisper in your ear, then, dozing
off, hear you crying through my sleep,
which’ll make me cry
in my dream, knowing
we must love one another
or die; yet, we are

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