you've read my poems earnestly -
i'm flattered you think a
sexualis wrote them
to quote:
' these were written by a psychopath '
- you

they said the same about Isidore Ducasse
but it's not his umbrella that's
taking a chance encounter
around your sewing machine
on dissecting tables of your own creation

perhaps it's a wet dream:
as beautiful as the chance encounter
between an umbrella with itself
on said table;
to steal a style from Poesies

it's not that i'd fuck you
and then depart next morning
leave a turd on your stomach
to funk your sleeping form

a true test would be
to get all my past loves
stranded on a deserted island
with only hula skirts and
an empty cooking pot
for these old flames
to heat

starve 'em a little

have myself 
dropped from a plane
into the ravenous throng

and see
if their stomachs
could absorb me