Not only pussycats, plays
surprisingly vulnerable
act as a fount for the
charms of
mother duck and her young.
In feminist poetics,
the end of the spontaneous overflow, if you will,
is not a conceptual work.
Whatever side was cold between
Gertrude Stein and Goethe’s simile
was astonished by the satisfactions
from someone else. He may
remember in the bonds of her gushing
crafted cock an apparently emotional love
of vulgar lapses, the perceptions constructed
in Brussels a way against that guffawing sexual
shriek, they return unpoetic in
nature and function. Both poets sense it
pseudonymous in bed: hair for complexity,
the hole the latest gizmo and its significance
easy to miss. Before he has entered whole
she will melt and he run the gamut
from the back of the landscape of snow.
