Monday, July 09, 2007

No motorcycle, laudanum
my unsalt dick
One year spent sick
my battered heart, a broken drum

Unthinkable,
yet perfect, wilting through the night
shaking against strangers, all white
undrinkable.

Still, the white water fills my throat
blending with me
an unfair fee
Mouth burning, I sat and I wrote.

Make perfect verse
stanza for stanza, and again
to break your own neck straining when
the fountain bursts

The features of my teachers strike me cold
whoever has, whoever holds
that shelf of shoulder, cursed limb
I retch at the warning, afraid of him.

At the unmistook sound of that delirious purr
I whimper and I hum because I'm sure that it's her.
My misdirected fervor leads me wrong
I'd stand lustful beside her all night long.

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