CURSE AND CURE

I am the witch who carries a coven within

and the convict who wears all his prisons inside;

the exorcist who fondles the beads and signs

and the amnesty dangling the keys aside.

MY TAILOR,

crisp in his pins and thimbles,

circles and takes my measure.

He garments me by his threads

and then applies his scissors.

EPONYMOUS

Think of the inventions

named for their inventors,

modest benefactors

made by Thomas Crapper

or infamous machines

that victimed Guillotine.

ANTIKARMIC

Ah! those lovenotes I sent–

Valentines back I get,

all addressed OCCUPANT

INANIMATE ENAMORATA

Pleeztameetyu / whaddyudu?

If I could do anything, I’d love to be your free flowing hair,

the fingertips of my follicles tickling your constant shoulders:

you, praising my full body to the skies–

I’d shear you clear off like a lamb’s wool in springtide!

or the palm softened wood of your habitual guitar

cradled into your passionate lap,

neck caressed to perfect pitch —

Even music, I’d gladly banish

if it meant pitching you!

the very odor eaters in your shoes,

if only I could embrace your soul —

But for a day only.

Then bedside

(eagerly coldly)

I’d abandon you

that’s as far as you’d ever get!

then, I guess I’d have to settle on

acting your bathroom mirror,

investigating your secret life

entire–

And I’d shatter your face into diamonds,

just like your illusions,

you peepfuckingpervert tom!

(leaving me in that case merely to wish upon

your vacant genital cavity

your manlacking pussy

handhungry tits,

that the

gap

in your ass beas

empty

as my harmless romantic fantasies–)