Sunday, April 15, 2012



The Snakecharmer
Bad Boy of Bendylaw
The Hog
The Hogkeeper’s Daughter
The Burnt-Out Spa
The Colossus
Muscle-Hunting on Fire Island
My Mother & the Mytholmroyd Mob

The Snakecharmer

The Snakes—began this world
Man is just a worm—compared to them
Snakecharmers rule—this snaky sphere
Moon-eye, pipes—Rimbaud gets stoned

Young Rimbaud—becomes a Snake
The Snake becomes—the young voyant
Both undulate—within the twisting smoke
Ardennes boy—thick French Anaconda

Snakehood—thick like his wrists
Snaking down there—Rimbaud’s navel
Snaky bored boy—yawns ho-hum
Verlaine turns into—a Snake Queen

Snakes—permeate & uncoil
Snake-rooted world—Parisian pricks
Invisible snake-scales—everywhere
Snakedom—eyelid-less, forked-tongue

Bad Boy of Bendylaw

The Bad Boy—bellows in bed
The sheets—once tidy & orderly
Suddenly stained—and sordid
By the young—Bull of Bendylaw

Bull-headed—erect nostrils
He knocks me—outta bed
On my big ass—a queenly flop
The look of Bad Boy—on his face

The Bad Boy—loses it
Semen oozing—from every inch
Pell-mell—goes my calm composure
I get down—do him some more

Daisy-chains—don’t do the trick
The Bad Boy—his own King’s Highway
The Royal Rose—the Boy’s bellybutton
It pops out—its shameless Bloom

The Hog

Gawd knows—how he manages
To breed—such a great big Hog
Whatever—his shrewd secret
He kept it hid—in his pants

He kept it—impounded down there
His Hog—from public stare & view
His Blue Ribbon—Rude Hog Show
His glorified—El Primo Piglette

One weekend—he took me on a tour
Unzipped the—sturdy sty door
Permitting me—to gape at it
This was no—cute little Piggy-Bank

It had a—Pretty Porcine Halo
Cum-Besmirched—and so Proud
With his nervous—Male Snout
Up-Turned, Erect—and Twitching

Vast Brobdingnag—Bristly Bulk
Lounging there—on his fat belly
Bedroom-rutted eyes—all dreamy
Winking at me—cunning Hoghood

Totally engrossing—my dears
Marveling at his—boorish Magnificence
Grisly-bristled—ready to Straddle
A Virgin Birth—in the Barnyard Cradle

Pig Love—Hog Heaven
Prodigiously—Porky Pig Lover Boy
Full of hog gluttony—piggish desires
Down on my knees—Doing the Swill

The Hogkeeper’s Daughter

A Garden of Pigs—a Pig Patch of Pubes
The great Hog itself—ready to Oink
Porky Pig Lover—bedroom-eyed Bacon
His Oinker stinks—I love the Ode de Hog

Big Daddy—the Head Maestro
Sneaky Fox—Big Pike in a Little Pond
All your cute girlfriends—are after you
But I’m still—the Hogkeeper’s Daughter!

You were a—Cambridge Cocksman
You prayed on—us Fulbright Scholars
American girls—can be so ambitious
And yet they’re—all so very stupid

Miss Eliot—falls for your charms too
Miss Auden—solicits your moody crotch
Miss Spender—knells there in the stairwell
All the Faber Queens—gone queer for you

The Burnt-Out Spa

The old fags—end up here
Wrinkling flesh—rotting teeth
Tadzio smiles—then he smirks
When I cruise him—too much

Little clues—insinuations
Wicked tongues—speculating
Crickets and worms—starving
Miss Aschenbach—on the prowl

The pipes—and old plumbing
Just don’t—work anymore

Tadzio—by the balustrade
His Basket—of Easter Eggs
Suggestive of—Resurrection
Such a cute—little Bunny Boy

All Boy—the jealous maid says
Giving me the—knowing Evil Eye
Us Old Queens—Guests at the Spa
We’re used to—such tacky Dishing

The Colossus

She could never—get enough
Inch by inch—cute impresario
Her Barnyard Boy—Porky Pig Grunts
Those horsy Neighs—and Nights

Her Mouthpiece—once so Charming
Able to swoon—and woo the Masses
Now she’s silent—shy as a Codpiece
Greatly Exaggerating—her Colossus

Feeling up—the fatal Lightening Stroke
Cute Lawnboy’s—cumly Cornucopia
Her Nightingale Song—gagging her
Strangled in the Garden—by Armando

Her bouffant—bashed in the Begonias
Seeing stars—red, white and blue
Her tongue twisted—and lip-locked
Around the Kid’s—huge Colossus

Muscle-Hunting on Fire Island

Big Mistake—her so-called Getaway
Doing a Lost Weekend—out on the Dunes
Sand & grit—dirty boys everywhere
Smacks & Snacks—Doing the Doggie

Cute fish-bait—everywhere
Mud stench—shell guts, gulls overhead
Naked boyz—fetid tidal pools
Heard any—queer jokes lately?

The doors—of the sly str8t world
Shut against her—with no keyholes
Even the cranky crabs—avoid her
All those—Gargantuan groins

She feels—absolutely alienated
Everybody goes—about their business
Then behind—some grassy dunes
She found a couple—making love

She felt like—a pygmy crab
Scuttling by—trying not to look
The two youths—grimaced at her
Bellies pallid—upturned hard

My Mother & the Mytholmroyd Mob

It gets old—after awhile
Having a—cold-blooded mother
Skanky, skimpy—cheap & chintzy
Pushing me—Publish or Perish

The Perils of Pauline—haunting me
Bell Jar buzz—and Rosenberg sizzle
Douching me—with electroshock jolts
To keep me away—from suicide sex

All my dyke—Dominatrix divas
Getting me into Smith—helping me
To publish in—The New Yorker
Madly in love with—Mademoiselle

Pushing me off—to Cambridge
Getting me my—cushy Fulbright
Picking a butchy—Yorkshire Killer
To murder my pussy—every night

Another crummy—Big Bad Daddy
Still plagued by—Electra Complex
Buzzing my brains—incessantly
Finally getting—rid of him

Unceremoniously—I suppose
Let Assia have him—who cares
I was bored with him—really
His Yorkshire—bourgeois ways

His rank smelly—Moors meat
The smell of a—Butcher Boy
Slovenly, lazy—couldn’t type
Without me—he’d be a bum

Men take it—all so for granted
He was lucky—to have an Agent
Getting him—finally published
Males loved—his butchy kitsch

That Mytholmroyd—moody mob
His ignorant—petulant family
Wuthering Heights—wastrels
My treason—was to be born

No comments:

Post a Comment