aft thine harrowing eyes
I am made of sex & poetry, & for all of that,
there may be no room for love.
Iíve known dirty women, they revealed secret sinful desires in
explicit details, & showed me the absolute nakedness of their
exquisite flesh. flesh for fantasy.
with them I hunted the communals & banes of ardent sex, & thru
them I achieved a tempest of orgasms; they told me they did the
same, & I believed them. & having taken what we came for, all
thatís left of euphoria are goodnight kisses & soiled paper towels.
Iíve known sad women, their hearts & their bodies, but lust & love
dissolve into silence, & something took them away.
in my long nights of solitude, I pursued a kindred lover. I named
her beautiful, & I named her sorrow. she has learned my anger &
therefore solicits my abuse, because hard sex is the only sex Iím
capable of. & I call to her, but my voice is smashed on a mountain.
I have known lonely women,
knew their names & their nudity
and something took them away.
and I suppose they weep & say
something took him awayÖ
(Art: Raoul Ubac)