Saturday, January 19, 2013

un chien andalou


“The cinema seems to have 
been invented to express the 
subconscious life, whose roots 
penetrate so deeply into poetry; 
but it is almost never used for 
that end.”—Luis Buñuel, Cinema, 
Instrument of Poetry

I fell for this Andalusian guy—
When he came, he’d become his dick

Or rather his dick would become—
Him with his tongue hanging out

He’d howl like a fucking dog—
Baying at the full moon at night

It wasn’t an innocent fairy tale—
Beginning with “Once upon a time”

He got me right in the eye—
Before I could get my lips on it

I doubt if Miss Dali and Buñuel—
Would approve of my queer surrealism

But what was really avant garde tho—
Was getting my tongue up his asshole

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