(ex)citable

There are things, I suspect,

imitation leather, dicephalic twins,

skulls,

that you can't turn away from since

they always choose Serena over

Venus for mythical sex. As for me

I only want to know a virgin before

another calamity strikes.

A poem for parapagus things:

one you can march into Starbucks on those mornings

modestly cold and order large Frappuccino's in our

blue jackets made of spun wool. My transsexual friend

(just) two years from HRT

is to be married this autumn. The've picked out a

house with a deck and an above the ground pool and

with her muscular fingers twitching, she showed me

her ring on a hand transfixed and spellbound,

his fourth, her third, under a sky

irresistibly attractive. I am, today,

particularly found of cicada's or

anything that puts off death to live another

7 years

I mean, the nerve of them, charmingly covered by dirt

and pine needles, wearing their this-ness,

guilt strewn Icarus myth like Dickinson

wore underneath her farthingale, the rods

of unpublished strength and enlargement.

That is why

I know the Cicadidae is the metaphor for my

broken soul. And you can't tell me how the

insects of your life will get along, since

rings are the cruelest hoax even invented

by those who fashion outcomes from the

razor laced clouds of approval and

ceremony.

Reviews

[W.k.kortas]

Transsexuals moving to the suburban dream; who'd have thunk it? One supposes it would have surprised any of us who had, all cicada-like, been underground for seven years. This ping-pongs all over the place--Starbucks and Icarus, Dickinson and the Williams sisters (I wonder what their dad is doing these days?), and there is certainly the potential for the whole thing to go off the tracks when you try to stuff that much of life into a poem, but a broken soul can apparently have a steady hand.

[h d e rushin]

her dad is still practicing being a Jehovah's Witness. You know, the 144 thousand that will get to heaven, the mythical world of no earthy government and no accrued taxes. ....I'm certainly not the only one off the tracks......lol.....I love you so much...dana

[W.k.kortas]

And all the love back at ya.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

and that broken soul will rise again....but if it is like the cicadas...there will be but 20 days of life...use it wisely....

your friend is....doing what comes naturally to enjoy what existence we have.

love "their this-ness"

super phrase.

[h d e rushin]

thank you Jacob.........just working on shapes this morning....