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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.

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.

the Minutes

We dwelled

in one story. . .

a concept coerced into agreement


ongoing & incomplete,

this mash-up of styles,

is ruled & rigid

(constellations named, planets punctuating)

free & formless

(a stitch in time fabricated)

it’s a continuum

devoid of metaphor &

lacking nuance

–elliptical poem of all that’s imagined without imagery–

our universe

is cold

(and hot)


(and suffocating)

–expanding outward in

relentlessly onward trajectory,

moving forward toward backward

–it’s every word in every sense–

a journey unlettered

or littered

by sensical signs


of far-fetched angle

(0. 1. 0. 1.)

–simple &


the difference

a product

that to sum is a

force-fed “quota”


–and spelling–

all unknown fear.