Why Even the Deaf Sing
7 times 70 the
condom tears and
7 times 70
I only
am escaped alone
to tell thee.
Melville had whales and Shakespeare.
Hemingway, bulls and Melville.
Bukowski, racehorses and Hemingway.
Schopenhauer, his jizz on bare breasts.
And me,
I’ve children
outer-darked
roving desolations
for explanation.
The children
of course
being poems.
The womb
of course being
your eyes.
We read as we fuck—
desperately
fine with flings
though craving what
we could ferry to
the grave.
Horror Sleaze Trash 