the dead sea is a lake with no life at all
and a corpse placed in it
would not be eaten or rot but float preserved on its surface
drowsy laughter against my neck
the clouds remain like a row of persian lilacs
scandalized and repulsive in their overdone finery
stretching out on the empty plain toward weeping rock
(i’m curious, what are you doing i’m curious)
you must learn it well the way we form our difficult vows
oh how i want her
but i know better
the way she blush
deserve a mirror
There is no use there is no use at all in smell, in taste, in teeth, in toast, in anything, there is no use at all and the respect is mutual. (Gertrude Stein)