They cannot do it,
So sing to me the song that you
Love the most to sing; and
While Krypteia is honing porn
Say that to you I am everything.
In a softly spoken word,
When big words in philosophy texts
Deceive us; fables fail; revered novels fall
And things we were told to be convinced of
Excuse themselves outside the wall,
When in a softly spoken word
The dynamite, energy stirs;
It winces to draw blood — and in
Assured hold, assurances do not get told,
But, till a sound is heard on the stair: that is it.
A car, which, when parked in a slope,
Aspires to menses. Near closely built
Neatly trimmed fences of two Uptown homes,
A couple, bidding bye, in neat pretenses.
I adjust my cap; adjust my lenses.
Bright sunshine, blue feathered bird,
Please tell me — cos, to me it never occurred:
Is life this serene, this free of piss?
I walk down the slope, kids walking down behind,
An insistent doggy another doggy’s ass-round kiss.
When big words desert us,
When you realize how dumb
Novels, poems make us to be.
In simple twisting, unfettering gest,
You break the iron, the bolt. Shrug yourself free.