of the jostle of
thy breasts and the slobber
of your thighs
i am so very
glad that the soul inside me Hollers
for thou comest and your hands
are the snow
and thy fingers are the rain,
and i hear
the screech of dissonant
flowers,and most of all
i hear your stepping
freakish feet
feet incorrigible
ragging the world,
defunct
who use to
ride a water-smooth silver
stallion
and break onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustlikethat
Jesus
he was a handsome man
and what I want to know is
how do you like your blueeyed boy
Mister Death
exquisite the hovering
at the dark portals
of hurt girl eyes
sincere with wonder
a poise a wounding
a beautiful suppression
the accurate boy mouth
now droops the faun head
now the intimate flower dreams
of parted lips
dim upon the syrinx
"The people who oppose your ideas are inevitably those
who represent the established order that your ideas will upset."
ANTHONY D'ANGELO
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