another poem
the women upstairs are in the full booming bloom of their first boyfriends
i expect the fallout to be tremendous when the creaking stops
and don't wish to be around to witness it
i have found celibacy, or rather it has found me while
the woman on my floor is kept up nights by her cat,
her nerves, and her flights of fancy
all of which are more real than metaphor
and conspire against her with more
constancy than any man could claim
below us are the woeful ones
who are blessed with too many trundled hearts
or too few
born a taurus, i aspire to assassinations
hornier than aries yet a bit too sharp
and headstrong for most damsels
or ladies in waiting
i shall hasten to spain next april
and shoulder a norwegian
or else gore her in the attempt
i long for a garland on my forehead
and "i want to fuck fuck fuck fuck you"
whispered in my ear in the fairest accent
i have ever known
oh! to be incautious now that spring is here
posted by kodeureum | 3:50 am
4 Comments:
oh such lovely whispers...
Oops! How did that word get onto my blog? Thank you for appreciating my poem, suz. It was a valentine's day special from twelve years ago. I thought it might be about time it saw the light of day. I was sharing a house with five women while I was a university student. It lasted less than a year. So it goes.
I remember that house. We drove one of them home to Dunnville and had homegrown roast beef. One of them damn near took a fancy to me......as for the hearts? You owe Captain Beefheart 35 cents for that......cheers.
I did buy Trout Mask Replica new in the early eighties, so perhaps he has already parlayed the royalties on that one into a bigger stake. I've never disparaged the man, either. The title source was attributed in my earlier post, "painting day", I think!
It was outside Dunnville and they were roast cow sandwiches. It was a dairy farm, remember? Colleen Grey was still in Toronto the last time I talked to her. I think I bought her dinner at Pauper's. She was kept up nights by her cat et al...
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