Her life not measured in canvas masterpiece

Celebrity media intimates

Politico assurances before a poll

The flags were not raised

Or lowered to regard her

There was no need for urgency

To respond to 911 for help

On Locust Street

She was the wobbling walk

Of drunken red hair

Told me you understand 

Don’t you

Aunt Gloria needs a drink

Her obsessions were whiskey

Valium and the high life

You did not hear 

On the six o’clock news

That Gloria is dead

Your soap opera not interrupted

Programming continued on that day

She was the drunk 

Down the street

Poor Freddie’s wife

Gloria the unhappy person

Like so many others we know


I know they are

People stare like never before

Creeping down these filthy streets

And my pants are high

I know they are

Fuck if my pants are high

Rimbaud Patchen and Yeats

Wore their pants high

So did Neruda when he kept them on

And Kerouac wore his pants very high

And there is me

With my pants

High like they are

And I say fuck

I have to say fuck

Am I good enough

To wear my pants this high?

But I like them high

So I wear em high

And I say fuck

Fuck if my pants are high



Crazy bitches 

Interestingly and creatively crazy

Alluring and bizarre

Blustering complicated bushwa 

Irrationalities accumulate

Atop a mountain of tarradiddles

Weaponized maraschino quim

Mentioned frequently in commercials

Appeal to your target audience 

Complains of minge wear and tear 

The limitless demands 

For exploitation and manipulation

Snatch à la mode

By those who do not have one 

But envy theirs

We await vagina infinity

Where no breakage or collapse resides

And live in a universe of existential vagina 

When did the urge to control happen?

Was there a flight of bitterness

As they all slid by? 

They wanted just one caress

Vagina didn’t 

And now is the reckoning? 

Show us your perfect record 

Your admirable history 

In the perpetuation of life

In every conceivable respect and chronicle 

You choose this moment 

To grapple with the troublesome cooze

To manipulate and maneuver

To continue on a corrupted voyage

On what was an uncontaminated path

To travel the course of human beings

Through centuries and travail

Decide to return to the beginning of the orbit

And declare your right to interfere 

You want to control the course you began 

Via vagina now that you are farther along

It is only human to change your mind

And someone is telling you

It is in everyone’s best interest 

To control the lives of others

Guns that kill people are good

Taxes that raise money to feed the poor are bad

Big government to help those in distress is bad

Vaginas are more dangerous than guns

Women are unable to think and decide

This has always been a problem

The natural order is that men have intercourse

Without burden and liability

Intercourse is a one-dimensional responsibility 

The resolution and onus must always be vagina

There is no other way to resolve this problem

We must stigmatize and legalize against the ugly pussy

We must control the uncontrollable vagina

It is madness to continue 

In their unrestricted vendetta of immorality

Jail and fine the vaginas and the associated accomplices

Build jails for immoral doctors and nurses

The ones who saved you from Covid-19 etc., etc

Put them away and believe everything else 

That makes you comfortable

Autonomy is for the people who are right-minded

These vaginas must be controlled and regulated

The path is broken 

The beginning is destroyed 

The beginning was vagina 

Pure and unadulterated 

It should always have been

We are trying to wipe us out

Let us summon the American Indian

Appeal to Black America                     

For grief counseling 

But there are no minorities in this fight

Against the rights of choice

For vagina is every one of us

They are coming 

And we need to fight back

And win the battle for ourselves


At that precise moment

A perfect red tear

Slides from Eve’s genesis eye

And reminds her

Of the dew on the grass

In those first mornings

Outside Eden

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