Showing posts with label allusion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label allusion. Show all posts
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Monday, November 29, 2010
fantasticwhore
>>>
or, "The Opposite is Equally True: Lena the 5th"
Lena is not invited to the wedding of her old friend, the virgin bride.
"Why not?" she wonders. She telephones a mutual friend.
"The bride considers your presence a moral detriment, given your past of prostitution and whoredom."
"That answers that," Lena says. She hangs up and takes out a piece of paper. She begins to write the virgin bride a letter. Lena finishes the letter and reads over it before sealing it in an envelope the same pink shade as her cunt.
My lovers and I wait seven hours to sleep together and two years to say "I love you."
Will you still love him, virgin bride, even after you've had two years to satisfy your deepest perversions of hedonism? The "love" you felt in reality is your bubbling repression of carnal desire. My retroactive advice to you, careless tosser of sacrosanct words, is to not inhibit your desire. Do not let a ubiquitous appetite determine the rarest phenomena of human existence. In popular culture the two are often confused, so I do not blame your for your common misunderstanding of Love.
Do not practice abstitence. At all costs, do not practice abstinence.
Lena is satisfied with the letter. She licks the edges of the envelope and presses its folds together. She walks to the mailbox and fills it with her letter. She returns inside to an empty bed.
or, "The Opposite is Equally True: Lena the 5th"
Lena is not invited to the wedding of her old friend, the virgin bride.
"Why not?" she wonders. She telephones a mutual friend.
"The bride considers your presence a moral detriment, given your past of prostitution and whoredom."
"That answers that," Lena says. She hangs up and takes out a piece of paper. She begins to write the virgin bride a letter. Lena finishes the letter and reads over it before sealing it in an envelope the same pink shade as her cunt.
My lovers and I wait seven hours to sleep together and two years to say "I love you."
Will you still love him, virgin bride, even after you've had two years to satisfy your deepest perversions of hedonism? The "love" you felt in reality is your bubbling repression of carnal desire. My retroactive advice to you, careless tosser of sacrosanct words, is to not inhibit your desire. Do not let a ubiquitous appetite determine the rarest phenomena of human existence. In popular culture the two are often confused, so I do not blame your for your common misunderstanding of Love.
Do not practice abstitence. At all costs, do not practice abstinence.
Lena is satisfied with the letter. She licks the edges of the envelope and presses its folds together. She walks to the mailbox and fills it with her letter. She returns inside to an empty bed.
>>>
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
three girl rhumba - connection
I've revealed to several people that, in my life before this one, I was living in England in the 80s. I died young, poor, and a punk - drug overdose. Then I got redistributed to 1987 Illinois farmland. I believe this more than I believe in god.
Friday, August 13, 2010
upon headphones & vacant cushion
5 new poems.
Pop Song.
N'other round of chorus
like some kinda hook-weaving florist
3 minutes is the average
time for rocking
several verses, and our bed.
60s girl group.
cute n creepy. unmastered
electric fuzz, the same
wires that stand when I
stripe your skin with nails
coated in bargain-aisle red.
60s girldance.
handclaps assessed with
synchronized hip-sass.
A graze on the thigh, a
slap on the ass.
electronic jazz
crafted, it works, it
tells a story without
words, or few words, a
trick you'd learn if
you only had one-worded
language like me.
punk after punk
post-coitus prose
writers - one goes for
carnal, the other a
lotus. animal or
vegetable, screams the
audience.
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