Wednesday, April 16, 2008

So I said like why so he said like maybe my place?

So he said cock so I said what
so he said like Cambodia like it was
like he looked straight
at you when he spoke of guns
versus flowers versus Picasso
versus twat
is hot is not
so I said typo
so he said type-A
so we fucked
or we balled
or we ambiguously
did the thing that has no name

Lovely to fuck the queen of the wards

5 Comments:

Blogger Reb said...

Good to see you poeming.

11:53 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

In Cambodia
Roxanne
is
Woxanne
and Cyrano has trouble with
hot pot

Renee Dubois

5:57 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I like this:

Landed, as if jettisoned to this
moist crotch of habitat.

Hurled, I’m sure,
by some enabling fiction.
The bald pate bristled and
the thing fell apart.

They gave me a bowl and a knife to stir humanity’s discontent.
A dun dish to decant your desire.
In this life, said Daddy, you won’t feel so pretty.
Then left me to assume
some form or swan.

As if
I needed pyres by the river
and the slashed throat of swine. Ululating youths
leaving pies on my breast.

Do you see how I learnt to feel
next to nothing?

Anna Maria Hong

5:50 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I think, Molly, you must have been a nun in your last incarnation. Zorro

9:15 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

who would not want to fuck the queen of the wards?

11:51 PM  

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