the girl, such a waste she was!

9/8/2005

poetic bliss, a touch of this
will collapse into rhymes
for a dime
mere pennies for my time
as your wish my kiss turns to vinegar from wine
like the stench of this evening so fine
starched crisp like sheets
of bastard-spawn swampsong
breathed throatily out by a crocodile throng
the sound and rush and smell
so strong
you can hardly bear it
like a fire on the mountain

and as stubborn as your desire may it crumble
like rocks loosened from the burnt roots of
the old growth forest
and may that wicked want so bent from sadness
crack upon the earth below, dusty like
your words and dull