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I’m a Speed Racer

When you’re driving down the road

running late—with ways to go

never get behind a Prius

charge it peeps drive slow as–

–Jesus lovers are the next to shun

praying hands at 12 and 1

always stay within the limits

honking’s fine, but speeding’s sin—

its’s hell on wheels to trail a truck

obscuring view, they’re big as f*ck,

since when they dawdle, you can’t know

if traffic’s bad, or driver blows

it’s also smart to skip the lane

when license plates are not the same

as state you’re in–a revved up wreck

those lookie-loos will hamper trek

and final peeps it’s good to dodge

-are tiny, ancient, grizzled codgers

gripping hands the only sign

they pilot car—from view behind

yes, if the minutes matter most

a biker’s best to follow close

or tailgate a souped-up car

when time is short—and distance far.

The Attitude of Sun (translated from French)

I gorged on


chug-a-lugged the opposite of what ails me

(to the dregs)

tying off on the high of a

sudden privacy binge

–itself a purge—

and so civilized

–going pagan

to wrap myself around

my unwrapped “altogether”

and dance without reflection

recalling her

–the one who’d gotten me into this


The “she”  before this made all reflection

a freak show–

–and tell…and tell…and


dancing yet more freely as

no one watches


–and by no one, I mean

everyone watches

but him


glutted, I gloat now

all but, and some bloat


I revel in so much air




   n there

↵and every direction north of there↑

bound chest exploding





in whipped up release

minus the frenzy

–no other can hear,


or out do.

w presence desired or disdained

–just me.

and I’m back


and just me


(is enough)

misfortune a maiden

not nearly so grey,

(before dye)

after all

is said and



the return to me.



come again?

He makes my


stand on end


oozing out of his porns

. . .

my thin goes

all humpy,

and juice flushy

. . .

fickles fade,

twinkles thrill,

. . .

and the tiny male

on my inner sigh

–private shows only—

gets all tingly

and seems

–of a sudden–

a big, hairy, deal.

auto correct

the hollow in


thinks giving

all my

kiss must

have been


No you’re


–hollow urges,


but resolute

I disregard,


valiant I’m



When Veggies are Magic

why’d we call them


aren’t we talking

‘bout the horn?

square in brow

–a peg!

(a stick)

how did veggies

join the mix?

it ain’t a kernel

twixt those ears

–or corporal–

from what I hear,

I posit


should be replaced

ascribing roan

with horny face.

I Could Not. . .

I could not see.

and sewing buttons

from belly,

and nose yet to form–

realized I didn’t breathe


so pinching peeks,

I poked holes

wherein all sound ceased.

then silently

ripped lower–

‘til gum flapped into


barely big enough for loft

(in life–less form)

and missing you,

I could not love

set shaping hearts

–in coal, and sand–

played both hands of deck.

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