Monday, March 11, 2013

KEEP YOUR SILLY VISIONS





KEEP YOUR SILLY VISIONS!   

Let me

Sweat in my big green leather chair

copiously lecherous (as I see myself)

and dream of my nose—belly-pressed-

squashed beneath your white “linen.”

Now there’s a fancy word for what my

nose’s eye loves.  And am I sick

of pessimists who have never kissed

your crippled thighs, nor ever bent and said:

“I kiss your eyes.”  Or even dreamed

that there are visions of them to be

dreamed.

Give me your hand.  We’ll try

New York if you forget what all

the nuns have said—they say too much,

but never what they mean—and they

were looking in your other eye.

(Clicking on images enlarges them.)

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