wise one crescent.

Crossdressers say it starts by visiting their mothers bedroom while she's away.

By listing to the click/snap of girdle clips..I guess it's like dawn milked from the cream

of sensation: like scaling the moons un-mountainous settlements

then naming it discovery.

What I've learned from my friend with Tourette's Syndrome

is that if you want your shoes to be tied perfectly/beautifully

you have to tie them 300 times. What Ms Stokes showed me,

from the recess in her rayon blouse, is that when a breast is

removed, it signals the other breast to drum out the rhythm of loss.

I still don't know how to "like" and paste to my homepage.

That's why a carry a brick on the front seat of my car

or why I drag through the pastures of past life, the pasties

of scented mistrust; so the house I live in has an address

stamped on it's forearm like the doomed of Ravensbruck...My neighbor

told me the story

of liberation. How she ran in a field so hungry she attacked a cow

and drank it's blood. I thought too of David Ruffin curled up before he

died leaving his 40 thousand in the crack house in London......that sort of

liberation, when you give in to ecstasy, when the birds are no longer withdrawing;

when their fingerprints are lifelong commitments forged by water. "Come back",

I call out from my windows covered with bars. Come hither and breath the smoky

barbequed air from my neighbors yard. His women

doing the hustle in the dark to Stevie Wonder with sparklers as light. Their big

rumps in that failed effort to be in unison, someone is just learning, so looks at

the feet of the others. I would be remiss  if I didn't mention me

in a poem about counting. How I have counted every dance step I've ever taken. How I cannot sleep anymore. Can hardly screw, so

I count the sheep left unchewed. I  call science from the gods of

drowning persons so after nightfall, I make no plans. Few friends come to the

funerals i've commissioned . I spell pretty good but what use is spelling

if you've lost your words . If you get rid of health care for millions, what will

happen to the ants I feed with sugar coated honey?

who will father their young?

Reviews

[Delmar Cooper]

It is not necessary that I understand to perfection a thing to enjoy that thing. Sex and crackling cornbread come suddenly to mind. I can smell that cornbread, but I ramble.

So without pretending perfect understanding I admit to perfect enjoyment knowing I don't need to know all the bits and pieces to appreciate the whole, and I do, I do.

Thanks for sharing this with me.

[h d e rushin]

dearest Delmar, so glad to here you,re still among us. and I agree, no need to understand anything anymore. just enjoy, or pretend to, and then defend the pretending and the joy.....thanks brother....dana

[W.k.kortas]

I would like to think that one day archaeologists will stumble onto your poems and say "Ah, the history of the world, lads, and all right here."

[h d e rushin]

driving through downtown Dearborn this morning, a community that is mostly Arabic, I was comforted in seeing an old used book shop still in place where I last visited it, and apparently still thriving. So when I saw your name in the reviews, once again I was comforted in knowing that intelligence was where I last saw it, still thriving and still in place....thanks for coming back to me....dana

[jacob erin-cilberto]

the way learn to be what we are in life, and the way we exit this life because of what we become...
a travel here..."a walk on the wild side" for sure.

so well done...you are amazing with your voice.
j.

[h d e rushin]

thank you dear Jacob for those words my friend...You don't know what you miss until you've missed it.......dana

[Damien Ridge]

This is a very interesting story/poem. Hooked me in and kept me reading until the end. Savage imagery: "How she ran in a field so hungry she attacked a cow and drank it's blood." But written so it feels real instead of fictional. Thanks for sharing, was good.

[h d e rushin]

thank you dearest Damien for stopping by to visit me...dana