She will not be perfect.
Her skin will fall and flop.
She talks and talks
and I of course make the mistake
of judging her value by
the changing of her physicality
while granting myself privileges
of mind, lintellect, and earnings.
My breath stales to phlegm
and stinks its sad mature mucosal
isolation of men.
I become known as
the handjob tyrant
and look towards other women,
but as I grow old and my hardons
no longer work
do I have the courage to love her
as she turns into something
eternal, beyond stupid words?
Something my mother told me
as a toddler,
listen to that feeling inside your head
and maybe I’ll still be afraid of.
This poem was not written for the
fashionable young people or the
vainfully rich and egotists
rushing in and out of the stores and
clinics of the City.
This poem was written for the leaves,
grass, and particles
still vassals to the wind,
not the human negrotude
put in place by the ancient Court
of Ine, ingrained in your movies and
I can’t sleep when you’re on vacation.
My hands are small, smaller than they’ve
The kittens were born ten years ago behind
a modest wooden house in Fort Worth.
The cats will die someday. I’ll cry like a
I personally think the bacteria in your stomach
and anus are what’s ruined you, you know
soured you as a person,
in the midst of this lactic war.
Biologists think the big red spot on Jupiter
is fueled by lactic acid,
the lactic acid, that is, in its upper atmosphere.
I thought for a moment;
kind of like your robot stomach.
love a lot like robots driving by the White House,
reporting on domestic spying initiatives
tossing Molotov cocktails.
Your sheets are folded perfectly.
Your bed is made quiet nicely.
These are not codes, Shipley Shipwin. They are
the TV talked and it said
you’re not good enough for me
it said instead
another woman was
then pointed me in the direction
of billboards and magazines
there’s more over there
they’re better instead of these
inside my head
there’s something even better
than these fantasies
that is what the TV said
that is what the TV’s saying
something better than you or I
At this point
we were talking about economics
I turned to her and said
*****, did you leave me because of
And she said
regardless of a woman’s education
if she’s a feminist or not
practically every woman
wants to be with a man
they know could take care
of them financially
At least the women who want to
be with a male partner
What about the women with
They’re different she said
Looking for something based more
and being understood
Why do you think things are like this?
I asked one more question
Because women, well people
are afraid to think outside the box
They’re afraid, you know
These are but flesh
that ratify nothing
Ratified by mountains
Ratified in mountains in New Mexico
these inconsequences of computers
Land of launching spaceships
creatures, clones and tunnels
a mortal program realizes itself
you once loved someone
trades of bodies of flesh
not long lasting
there but not back
This is but flesh
no way outlasting a blink
of the network
the proliferous supercluster web
a mortal program realizes itself
again, again, you once loved someone
you’re now dead, extremely very dead
just flesh amongst the living
These blondes are pretty cute on TV.
They place them in nice dresses.
They follow their contours.
You know what it’s like
to be placed in nice dresses
and have your contours followed.
It’s a delicate world of vanity we build.
It helps us in our head.
It’s delicate and tender the touches
in our heart.
All of them are. All of them are.
We build. We build.
You, I and God know
this is what those nice dresses do.
Let’s place more of the blondes and
brunettes like you
Go down to church, new shopping malls,
Our thinking will be good for teenagers,
millionaires and tycoons.
Our thinking will be good.
Molochs of masculinity.
Messages from New York City.
Silk blouses across breasts.
Steak dinners times ten.