After sex moments.

 

 

 

You didn't make a sound.

Yes, I noticed.

No moans or healthy scratches

on my bald head. Unlike 84 when I swore to

seeing brain matter.

My word choice did this to me,

with the fanaticism perfect for a poet.

I use to be able to do it and write about it.

Now I write about it which is a good way

of bottling up truth in futures or pasts participles;

you babysat my brood,

found the bleed and bled

all before 11pm and the local news,

when we were both too tired

and held my waist like cattle

buckled up for slaughter.

 

To push things in and other things out

is so deliciously Hindu anyways,

more mystical contemplation than

old, rusty inviolability. Yet you

told me that I hurt you the last time,

which in the strangest way, made me

boast the night away as if I was a

giant Tiger in a room with the

misplaced remote control. Which

 

at some point in this R rated porno movie,

- may need talking about.

Reviews

[Lydia Shutter]

A bit of self deprecation in this one...and a tremendous amount of brutal honesty. Sometimes I think poets make life a lot more difficult on themselves because of "word choice." I like your view of the world. It is unique and refreshing. Lydi**

[Lena Rossmore]

This is so candid. I love it!

[Clara]

The honesty in this piece, is profound.
I liked, 'My word choice did this to me, with the fanaticism perfect for a poet.'
Ain't that the truth!

Very clever word play and imagery used. :)

[Emily B]

i would so much rather read honest, words about bodily fluids or lack thereof, than imaginary elegies to love long lost . . .

[Ken Simm.]

A life and real life. This is written with an honesty that is humbling and a style that is unique as far as I can see. Perhaps that first statement should be a poets love and real life.