Friday, November 2, 2012


(1) My Dearest Gregory: what You and I have here, is a Sorely unfurnished Composition, Meaning: I’m about to Run up your Loose Slip

(2) An Erotic little Dirty-Birdy frequently Housed in this Body and Mounted in my own Dismay

(3) IF there is one thing, that I have Sought, it is a Box, an ordinary Box, but one in which, I could one day House, one of your Cufflinks, that I would Slyly unclip from your Sleeves as you Slept, on the Couch, or on my Bed, and that in my Mind, I would Name: “My Missing Link”; and Listen now: I would have no intention of ever Returning it to you, or ever letting you in my Secret Possession.

(4) It is always a Question of laying-hold of Another, Aggressively, and passively, how it Begins turning-in-on One, Oppressively, So

(5) And let this City be for the fucking Fools or, at the very least, let the Vacuuminations begin

(6) In my Heart: an odd Stillness; and in the Face

(7) A Bout of Pleasure driving itself up from the Root: her Grace

(8) My Dearest Gregory: I am in the Thrōs of some joking Conniption-Fit at all Times

(9) Where “So Help Me God” was always, of course, not so loosely Translated as: “So Help Me Maw.”

(10) Well: ‘Yes and so (-en) so is Slo…’

(11) My Dearest Gregory: Simply, it is the very Joy that Joy actually Exists; and that these Words, might Surge through an Abandoned Lot, right (-ily) merged in(s)—I or: You

(12) Turning the Page: that’s one fucking Problem, I’ve never had

(13) soap, -------à(-es) Savon la (-ins) Bouche:

1)     A Fecal Sadness
2)     A Departure fully Nested
3)     The Anal Relief of having so little to Say, so little to Observe from the Sun, this City, the Devious Scheming of Everything, we could never, have Predicted

(14) I Remember your Laugh; Jesus Christ, how I Remember your Laugh

(15) For: to be a Man, Meant: One must Embrace His Strong-Hold on His own Composed Bat-Shittery

 (16) My Dearest Gregory: Here is the Question: What the Fuck--------àthe Object of Desiring, ultimately, is to end Desire. 

(17) I want Someone, once, to Ask me, if I am actually Enjoying this Blowjob

(18) The Path to One’s Glory always has the Dirtiest of Solutions

(19) I Will probably always be Haunted by *this Pigeon and all the Shit I’ve never Made

(20) I Returned Home to Chicago and went on Haunting

(21) When I am Alone, there are Times, that I Swear, I feel your Voice Pulsing against my most inner Walls

(22) And that Above isn’t Fluffery, that’s just fucking Fact

(23) And it Comes to this Comes and Goes to this Comes and Goes

(24) And this, apparently, is Achieved, through the Eyes of One in the Thrōs of Pleasure

(25) My Dearest Gregory: I get off the Train, I Flinch, and Inside Whose Bones, it is, for I, to only Know