maybe you'll never regret who you are right now
but you make me sing
there is never a moment more beautiful
than the one that's really me--
just like you are you and you beatific
and yours alone
mine are quite wide and blunderful
and QUITE MY *quiet* OWN.
you lie and kick and scream but shout
that i can't do the same--
the only man that does this, you know--no doubt
without redoubt and roundabout again!
you believe i'm lying
that i don't mean to live in san francisco
but what are you smokin'?
what are you tokin'?
you mean you really don't know?--
that all i do is love you, and give you right
and time and dole again...
and you're mainlining, steaming
steaming down the hurricane
(which, by the way, never leads to oz! that's a tornado!)
and this, by god, by GOD
is everything you need to know. [what poetry does!]
oh, and oh, oh, oh...the pain in my heart never, ever
leaves due to the woe
that i met the perfect father...true, and idiotic to prove, toe by line...
but he saw me and lit up, he knew i was true--
his eyes lined with naught but respect, though it was you--you, every time you
yelling, screaming that i shouldn't say this "dirty" thing or that
slapped my hands, hissing that he thought me a right dunce
that my shirt and smile might be propriety
measured and sifted twice--
and he'd never hand down my pants or up my twice.
yes, i mourn a father i met twice. he was so sweet and kind
i could have and do love him forever. this is not wild
this is the heart of infancy and the heart
of the twenty-six two-hundred-fat me
reaching to love. and that is never crazy: it is the heart
of infancy and twenty-six father-raped me:
it is the heart of immediate trust. of that you've lived.
think you not, think you that you live of venomade
from sugary lips? i love those very lips but male, yours...
hers, and i know full well whose drip into my veins weighs phenomenal.
each thing you've raped from me you've done once.
just to taste
and there is just: here is the hate.
she told me, drenched with water until it dried me in clumps--
attacked and the day i lost you:
i thought too hard about the difference, the reference
points of your arms and kisses and the deep, the deep wet orgasm
that swirls anemone and prickles stars
of the penises so dark and swirl that dank, black, they swirled
and, staring at young faces so intent on abuse--
everything--when i came to i was dry and three blocks away.
your mother caressed me. she glowed, she squealed, she hovered--
you had been right: she really is psychotic--
but the smile, the eyes hypnotic, so i see, i see you, i see me and you in you and me--
she glowered when i stammered, your sister threatening:
"if you don't leave i'll call him and tell him never to see you again."
running, running, running.
since that day.
now i see...the latino way.
let me, now, the red...the bottle, the silk, the satin i wear
wear away, if we may
el toro! your family safeguarding, blocking the way.
and now you have that cherub
if i may.