Sunday, September 12, 2010

Poem 33 – Thespian p*ssycock

Thespian p*ssycock

(for Dorothy Trujillo Lusk)

My name is Breast.

There’s me at eighteen just pussifying on that blacktop.

The reason dogs are gay is because my two little boys get tired out

Or inverted.

Crito, I owe a cock to Asclepius: will you remember to pay the debt?

You’re lucky I’m such an organized thespian.

All the cats follow me so the wire bird abandons writing.

The apartment choked with incense, apology,

Tender terror escaped another translation from the ffff-

That’s my bandanna-wearing Berella risking deportation.

I will honour you under the table to hoard what’s left of the gold.

Canada really gay in the ass lacks conventional Syntax dimensions,

Author magic, the location resizable rattle-trap heuristics

In the white nose of prattling excess: Thank you

For saying my boobs look real.

For the rule of what is indefinite is also indefinite

Like the leaden rule in Lesbian architecture,

A place against which the darling trace falls.

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