Deadly Ivy     |   home bowel   |   haiku   |   (shaving in extremis)   |   Sonnet(a complaint)   |   Topf&Söhne   |   Symphony#41   |   Sweetheart-   |   Plea for Mercy   |   6.7   |   6.8   |   5.30(W.C.W.)   |   Rationale of Verse   |   Short Poems   |   (spontaneoulsy written)   |   6.6 (Elizabeth) Rationale of Verse Sometimes a Muse Sits quietly on my bed, Tied tightly from the posts — Each wraps like silent ghosts: They hold her by the ankle and give her locks a rankle. And her nakedness revolts me. Her muffled screams, They do contrariwise I pull back the felt from her mouth and mount her. Verily! I mount her. She screams with each thurst — I stroke her white thighs Her skin, it is ice: Polar caps rest in her legs: I fuck her and claw her, I slap her and gnaw her. And she tells me her stories. She screams out her stories! She squeals as I orgasm, She scratches mine eyes She shrills out a curse, And spills out her verse. And all the world’s beauty, The raping miasma: They erupt with sweet swiftness, Despite her cool stiffness: And they fly out our loins, They fly on the Pages. For written on bedsheets, Are the words of the Sages.