Saturday, July 10, 2004


Three thousand meanings to my life
And I hurl them away to break this shell of self-conscious womanhood
I slice it with freshly sharpened knives to watch the edges part
Like the soul of a live fish at a Tokyo sushi –ya
I emerge from the split
Just to spit and cough my beauty free
Not because it is a straight-jacket; because it is an irritating sweater
I am not violent
I am not non-violent
I slip out of it into nakedness, into nothingness
But I am not seducing you
I am not coy
What makes you think that interests me?
I have grown fat until I burst the hand-stitching of my under-things
I have sprouted a nose of cucumber proportions
I have called you 25 times a day
I have written willowy poetry
I have seduced you all
But those measures have only held me more tightly
I am tired of this game of ping pong
I will become pages in a book
I will become a bus stop
I will cackle when I feel like it and ignore your mental associations with Macbeth
I will be a square of linoleum in your puttin on the ritz kitchen
I am no more mysterious than you
And my teeth are just as sharp
But I will not bite, and I will not kiss you gently
I will sit here as usual eating when I am hungry
Drinking when I am thirsty
Sleeping when I am tired
Fucking when I am aroused
Laughing when I find the world absurd.

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