I’m the millionare pope
eater of souls
baptiser of dopes
Frankly, I’m told,
my mouth doesn’t move
and my harem grows cold
They’re hung in a groove
and they’ve sung of my eyes
through my cloven hooves
I’m growing through tries
and making dog food
from my favorite woman’s thighs
The Supermale (pt. 2, rough, “Perfect Human Cycle”)
Untitled Love Poem (Love Poem to No One)
Like prowling cats, we creep
underneath blanket dark
on the outskirts of sleep.
Rolling bodies illuminate under-sheet with static sparks
to illustrate intent. This night I know will be well spent:
If bite may match my hungry bark
and perhaps prevent us both our speech,
instead, on our heartbeats hearken
the beacon into which we follow deep
slumbers, within which I may repent
the idle [...]
Terza Rima #3 (Circles, Always like Cirlces, Kundalini Circles The Ego Like Prey)
Like Plathe, I’ll say I’m through:
head in the oven to bide my time
my eloquence cannot quench you.
And once more, you’re no longer mine.
Decisions too preemptive, strike
me down, I’ll admit defeat to swine,
but no force to make the skirt to hike
once more, the pig’s head on my shoulders
lay, the hog is not unlike
my reflection, steadfast as [...]
Terza Rima 1
I’ve been reduced to late night
television, cult and b-movie madness
sometimes reruns while I write,
jotting down nonsense on scraps, my sad wrist
sore from writing nothing at all
for hours, the occasional silence creating an ellipses
for the things undone and calls
unmade, the nagging as if from all corners,
a specter which gloomily revolves
around this beat up couch, and I [...]
