P O E M S
Poems and illustrations |
but my issue my own cockbrain replica Me-Hood again -- For fear of the Blot? Face of Death, my Female, as I'm sainted to my very bone, I'm fated to find me a maiden for ignorant Fuckery -- flapping my belly & smeared with Saliva shamed face flesh & wet, -- have long droopy conversations in Cosmical Duty boudoirs, maybe bored? Or excited New Prospect, discuss her, Futurity, my Wife My Mother, Death, My only hope, my very Resurrection Woman herself, why have I feared to be joined true embraced beneath the Panties of Forever in with the one hole that repelled me 1937 on? -- Pulled down my pants on the porch showing my behind to cars passing in the rain -- & She be interested, this contact with Silly new Male that's sucked my loveman's cock in Adoration & sheer beggary romance-awe gulp-choke Hope of Life come and buggered myself innumerably boy-yangs gloamed inward so my solar plexus feel godhead in me like an open door --
Now that's changed my decades body old tho' admiring male thighs at my brow, hard love pulsing thru my ears, stern buttocks upraised for my masterful Rape that were meant for a private shit if the Army were All -- But no more answer to life than the muscular statue I felt up its marbles envying Beauty's immortality in the museum of Yore -- You can fuck a statue but you can't have children You can joy man to man but the Sperm comes back in a trickle at dawn in a toilet on the 45th Floor -- & Can't make continuous mystery out of that finished performance & ghastly thrill that ends as began, stupid reptile squeak denied life by Fairy Creator become Imaginary because he decided not to incarnate opposite -- Old Spook who didn't want to be a baby & die, didn't want to shit and scream exposed to bombardment on a Chinese RR track and grow up to pass his spasm on the other half of the Universe -- Like a homosexual capitalist afraid of the masses -- and that's my situation, Folks --
New York, April 12, 1961 |
