return to current image


Either everything is sexual, or nothing is. Take this flock of poppies
I went downtown and went down
i lie back on my red coverlet and contemplate
Is there still a Betty in this new life?
It Seems Like a Poem Should Smile Wide, with Rotten Teeth
prayer that goes: dear god
spring’s confessional poem
We fear the undulant,
what is it, darling, that draws you to me? it’s probably insipid,