she says o like a god sings

yes it was leda, bathing
in the all together cold
lake in the middle of a warming
trend. you could see her stand up
nipples beneath the ripples.
i always think of swans in spring
the way your black cat lay
on the white tiles purring with her feet
under the expressive green eyes.
like flight, waiting for a wing.

in spring i always think of birds.
there are mallards in the reedless water.
they hold the blonde hair dye hostage
in feathers sleek and mimicing spring.
what does it mean what does it mean her
ducklings cry. she spanks them with a bill o fare
and sweats the small stuff, mabb birchy
with a armistice on the side.

in the house of mending some things
are finished while some rending
garments still look for the way, the why.
well, yes, it will mean a period of growth
this omelet surpise, the chickadee roostering up.
the boys go work out. they truly love me.
i tell my son it would be sick for you and i
to do what my lover and i do. we talk about
taboo, incest, recessive and dominant traits.

why do you believe that everything
is related to the sex you all is shue?
is that all love is? was emily wrong
when we she said all we know of love
is love is all we know or was that all u need
or wait was that a john paul, catholic, or
seeming the scores individual and secretely named.

oopsy. a mad cow moment. see b.c , i watch my mind
degenerate. search for words that used to flow thru me
faucet, teapot, no 20 stranded guage wire but now
i am adrift in sensation, these names resist thinging.

and i battled with the tarot when i first met him.
i insisted to the tarot that what i
what i mean is that i mean to fall in love
with this man. and what i mean to do is this
tho i know it means he leaves me.
so i will not fall at all. i will call it fall
i will live as fallen and far far felled
rewooded and pacific coast hiwayed into your ear.

its so nice to not have to worry if this is readable.
now all the comments are gone. dear out there
you will see this and pass it by, grain of man
in the cosmos.

well i could go on about that man thing. the language
patriachy and its insidious overture to demolition you see
it's not that women will clone men from existence, no the idea
is to get mechanical wombs so we can at last get rid
of you women once and for all. jeeze, can't you see
who all the scientists are? all the investors. italicize
the point and perhaps your emoclod heads will
feel the poke.

hmmm, how would that work larry? i mean from what i understand
men are pretty much sex driven drones. even scientists
and mathmaticians are not immune. they simply sublimate.
so if you rid yourself of women what will you fuck? each other?
no there would be uncontrollable raging warriors
who would first fuck and kill the zeta males who cooked up
this scheme. maybe they'd listen to the dweebs if
they could convince the men that they could produce not one
woman, but a thousand women. in the little vats.
othis is just a damn silly line of reasoning. steal it if you dare.


ok so i'm getting ired.
our body beckons my skin
degidedment. wantonness
a sweete caress. your hair spikes
medusa in the morning, dark.

there is a stinger, purple on the vilvet romananivch
pillow duvet. you were never
less with me, than in sunlight.
it is the dark blend of sting
and sorrrow that binds me
to him. which is you is
was will ever be, back there
once upon a ime. i closetthe book
over an over looking for some
warranty. you understand now
i trust, why. it wsn't love
you belived not in.
it was me. or you. you looking at me.
a pretencse a substitute for waht
you wond
wanted. but wouldn't admit.
i will never understand
ou ikea footload. your ennui.
the miracle of your attention.

therer is a wound in me
deep as the years between us that festers
still on the outskirts of your utopia.
i do ont understand why a pearl
resides inside me. i have smoked the hashish
of barinadulam. covered ants
in belgium chocklat to give to your
boys and still you will not sew
this matter in the sub ether of your life.




i was an infant. i was
innocent and you were need. it is
the ghost of sacrifice
that wails across the marshes
and tundras of starbucks crying o woe
o where is the woman i once was, and her lover
who vibrated out of existence.
time handy in the next short bottle.
you should have genied me out
when you knew you didn't actually love me
when getting used to me was your only option.

i was in love, you fucking white birdyou were only
afoce of naute, migratory.