Big Breasted Women

I was always devoted to big-breasted women.
Since I was little, I loved
Being held in their arms between their breasts
And falling asleep
With my little penis erect
Listening with pleasure to what a busty woman said
To her friend or companion
Touching my penis:
-Woman, this boy has potential.
Some of them, who were friends of my mother
Would take my penis
And start sucking it
Passing it from one to another.
Then, when I was older, at the age of eleven
Knowing how to masturbate
Taught to me by a certain Candelas
Sister of Segismundo Cachalunas
In the haystacks of Fuentepelayo, Segovia
They took me to the Seminary of this city
And, among pictures of virgins and saints
I carried postcards of big-breasted women
Because only they gave me health and protection.
Postcards my uncle used to give me
My father’s brother
Who was as cheerful as a clam
Who received them from Paris.
A cheeky uncle who, when asked, would say:
-Tell us who helps you
To do your job at the Gas Field
Where you work in Madrid.
-Nobody helps me
To do my job, he’d reply.
Only my dick helps me!
When I started Philosophy
I went to the Madrid Seminary.
When I left the Seminary
Before starting Theology
I happily told my mother, to please her
That the first thing I would do
Was find a job and a girlfriend.
At the urging of a friend and colleague
From my first job at a company
That made machinery for service stations
I went to see an apartment in the Lavapiés neighborhood.
It was midday
And there I was greeted by a beautiful busty woman
Whom I complimented on her ample breasts
She told me she had
A field at the foot of the Mount of Venus
Which was a real gem today
And where I could let loose.
I replied that no
That what interests and pleases me most
Is that, when the clock strikes one
I place my erect penis between two
Trying to penetrate her orally
Coming down her throat.
And not only that, but this:
That when I lower my erect penis to her vagina
Eager to fuck
The touch of pubic hair on the glans
Changes my thoughts
Making my penis flaccid
Losing all power.
The busty woman was amazed
With great satisfaction
After I came down her throat
For she said to me:
-Darling, friend of my friend
I have to congratulate you
Because you have a penis that is a real gem.
You can come to my house whenever you want.
I won’t charge you.

Joey Ramone Says

Well that was Dee Dee
he was the Pet Sematary writer
but first about me
I did not have a parasitic twin
growing out of my back
at birth oh no
and Phil Spector had the wig on
guns all over the place but
he did not hold us hostage
working on our album
producing End of the Century 
and Frank Zappa was a hero
I wrote Censorshit
to fuck with Congress
the parental advisory labels crap 
and we loved Florida
Halloween night in Gainesville
Too Tough to Die tour
snake handling in the Panhandle 
We loved the Stooges
Couldn’t get enough 
of their I Wanna 
I Wanna Live
I Wanna Be Sedated 
I Wanna Be Well 
I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend
but Dee Dee wrote Pet Sematary 
after reading the book
We shot the video in a famous
cemetery in upstate New York
scary havin to be buried alive
a few times and I remember
feeling it was kinda sacrilegious
cause the equipment truck
caught fire on the highway
after the shoot and all our gear 
melted all over the road
but we’re a happy family

Gut Shot Blood

Gut shot blood
Is everywhere,
Organs on the floor.
Retribution or just
Being a badass dick?
Did you at least
Gain anything from
It?  No?  Then who the
Hell’s gonna clean up
This mess?  Cops ain’t
Comin’ for that.  You
Settle anything by it?
Okay, so your woman
Ate the chicken nuggets
While you were all
Strung out on dope.
She told you to stay off
That cheap crap, right?
You never listen to her.
Now you got no nuggets,
A gut shot woman, and the
Law’s kickin’ in the door.
I don’t think they’re here
To bring you any more
Mickey D’s.

King Rail

Uh-huh, yes. The affair: 
It started when you saw the King rail 
at the Ipswich Sanctuary. You named it Merlin,
like the wizard. 

I’d be rolling on the floor laughing 
if it weren’t for my monkhood. I have a gentle heart. 
A dead gray seal was found with shark-bite wounds. 
You have a folder that says: “In Case I Croak.”

No chance. You ran a half marathon in May. 
I came out of hell at sunrise. 
The smell of fried clams made me dizzy. 
The great ball of crystal is neither subtle nor effective. 

Lost, or damned

Pulling the new from the body of the old 
—ah. Let’s move 
on. Your bikini is worth my raft and it’s too bright
to see. 

All the People in the World Right Now

In the bar,
the dark-haired girl
with large brimmed white hat yells,
Girl, I’m not drunk
and falls off her chair.
The men in polo shirts
with eerily similar manscaped beards
pass a phone around each looking at a pic
where one shouts,
I’m blacked out drunk here!
and orders tequila shots for the table.
A birthday boy with sash that reads,
I’m not gay
kisses his boyfriend.
The bartender states to a table
of cigar smoking dudes in loafers and Jimmy Buffet style shirts
Does this look like a place that makes Mojitos?
An old couple who have always loved one another
begin to slow dance to Sam Cooke.
A tour guide trying hard to pass himself off
as a vampire from the 1700s
looks bored and checks his Apple watch.
The uptown girl sways at the ATM yelling,
Let me have my money. Where is my money!
The blonde-haired couple
wearing the same white with black striped Adidas
try to go into the bathroom together
but there is no lock on the door.
A Frida Kahlo looking girl
in a bright colored summer skirt
pushes through the crowd shouting,
Sheila! Sheila!

Under the beer signs
the poet sips his drink
next to the glow of the jukebox
and says,
What’s next?

The Perfumed Bactrian Camel

I was daydreaming about a Canadian caramel colored hair lady; I met in the Jemez Mountains in New Mexico. She was so fine men and boys were hypnotized and vied to be in her presence. She fell hard for me and I for her. Her eyes were bluejays in flight. She rented a chapel above a hot spring. Her car was crazy fast, we would drive to a bar, she would say, “Give me a dozen Coors, a dozen Bud, and a bottle of tequila.” She put a new $50 on the bar and we would fade. We fucked all night and did kinky shit to each other, until the pink sun rose magically from the pines in the east. Her boobies were grand, like a Bactrian camel with super strawberry textured nipples and a tasty cherry on top. Amigos asked how we grew so close in such a short time? We did it standing up in the nudist colony at Spence Spring, then drove to Bandelier and did it doggie style in a kiva. My dick was getting big and hard at the thoughts. I felt hands caressing me and smelled an exotic perfume, my mail was falling onto the floor from the letter sorter. 

Lucky for me Snoozing Suzy was the boss that night, her nimble hands were massaging and teasing me almost to orgasm. She whispered, “We will continue this at lunch and after work, you will come over and help me move my couch.” At lunch, I fingerfucked her, then licked her fine ass pussy, until she was screaming for dick. I pumped her like a sex machine. Suzy said fuck work and had folks do my job and punch both our time cards out. I did everything I knew in my vast sexual repertoire. I fucked her silly, she did not know her name, or get out of bed, and didn’t come back to work for 3 days. I had lots of female attention after that incident. There was an abundance of good-looking pussy at work, I tried to stay calm and remain stoic. It usually didn’t work for me, I was and remain a cunt hound.

le petit caporal 

he looked more like a China pig 
than an emperor; belly swollen, big flabby 
ass, legs like sausages boiled in lager. 
also, his teeth were black from chewing 
licorice, and he had digestive issues, and 
headaches, and nausea, and liver 
complications, and his bladder had shrunken
and contained gravel, so peeing was a great 
and demoralizing hardship; 

after the Tuileries, after Milan, the Russians, 
the Prussians, the pyramids and Waterloo, 
to be standing in a frigid water closet 
on the island of Saint Helena, penis 
in hand, leaning into that last and most 
humiliating battle, little drops of urine 
falling into the chamber pot
like a volley of grapeshot.

The Good Witch

She followed me
I almost died 
at the hands of a monster 
dressed as a man 

I was a child
she was ageless

If I dreamt this 
let it be
someone somewhere 
watched 
waited 
and something somehow 
prevented 
this malice

This 
a secret 
and perhaps one day 
when I’m dead 
a legend 

She came back 
to brush my hair
in the hospital 
when I again was left 
for dead 
by the hands of a different monster 

It’s been quiet 
since those dystopian days 
that part of me – that craved sick wildness 
has long since died off 

There’s nothing to protect 

At night I dream into her 
she cradles me still

nightspawn fantasy

the dreams intensify
my mother
vomiting her
internal organs
into my waiting
mouth

The Man
they call 
“friend”
“protector”
“Herr Orange”
pulling bullets
out of shattered
brain and 
handing them to me
gray pulp
leaking down face

my father
in rented tuxedo
grinning at me
as i slit his throat
from ear to ear
with the greatest
hardon of my life

my god
they don’t go away
the worms crawling
from my preacher’s eyes,
my once-future 
baby daughter
dropped
headfirst
into the
still beating
heart of 
digitized
diaries
doing
de Sade
ten million
better and
now dead
faceless global
porridge pot
cum receptacles
like wraiths
shadow me,
entrails being
pulled from me
in tug of war
fashion,
to be ingested
as if Kubrick 
delicacies,
the lingering
stench of
corpsicles,
rotting heads
on bamboo
posts glaring
at me,
of more
tiny
shrunken
skin-covered
sand skulls
and it
doesn’t
won’t
never
ever
fucking
end

nuke 
the system
in a final cum 
drenched orgy
plz

Cheap Art 

Summer is peak King—
Stephen, not Charles or Frederik.  
I almost died swimming to the floating raft at Gilbert Lake.
The moon is jerking me around. 
Stars fall out 
of the sky like doorknobs
and in every dream 
I’m in an abandoned hotel in the Catskills.
First love, too late— 
and now…
what to do; nothing much is exhilarating.  
I’m shopping second hand for everything 
no one ever wanted. 
The sky is as blue as a dead jay in a cigar box. 
The sun, a ginger biscuit. 
When Rachel tells me 
she saw the werewolf again, I say 
… that’s just exquisite pain.  
Her mother has been reading The Clan of the Cave Bear. 
The last time I saw the Earth’s Children  
they were selling homemade wine. There was bread and puppets 
and young men lighting fireworks 
in covered bridges. The art was cheap. 
My nose grew 
when I told you I love you.