Thursday, January 05, 2006
For me though it's not so funny as it is a kind of musical chairs with the ethers, incredibly overCome.
It's something to set to music for the very best sex or childbirth. Ah shucks Jim, I'm just so fucking happy to finally see a guy writing about his sad drizzling jizz who's not a queer. Are you not? Fags like me need to step aside 'cause Jim's in the house! Should we step aside? I mean, maybe we should be in a circle around him instead, you know, in a circle for poetry workshop. I don't know, anyway, rock on mister, sister, whoever the hell you may be!
p.s. where're the other lines of the poem? What about "I miss your body, I want your chapbook."? Huh? Where is it? What did the poem do since we last heard it? Did he leave a page on stage? He's missing some lines, I know he's missing some lines, my memory is a good memory and I can't say why.