the man with a
face like a horse
john dorsey
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said they are trading love
on wall street that's
why nobody has touched
my prick in over
a year though i've
ceased to worry about
grace i could never
walk on water while
making love to words
anyway
i could never whisper
sweet nothings under the
moonlight without thinking
about how the sun
was gift wrapping skin
cancer under my tongue
it always seemed like
a trick to take
the words
away
"enjoy life now" the
moon sang the moon
had tits like jayne
mansfield and would never
have even thought to
touch any part of
my being let alone
my
soul
cuz i wasn't hung
like james brown could
never sing like james
brown that godfather of
soul
i always wanted to
take the words out
on a date but the
girl of my dreams
had a sharp tongue
and a pussy that
was resistant to my
tongue's meager
wisdom
i wanted to say
to sparkling jayne there
are more of us
than there are of
you
baby!
an ugly ghost saw
you pick your nose
before purging in the
bathrooms of
heaven
my ancestors did an
irish dance spitting out
their teeth in praise
of the heavenly ugly
people
i'm glad there are
ugly people even people
uglier than me with
my horse face otherwise
how would the first
ugly person have ever
gotten laid? how would
the first poem have
ever been
written?
real beauty is the
dance on my tongue
true saints remember what
a nation of cameo poets always
seem forget hungry for
their 15 minutes of
virgin divinity false grace
held up to the
light for all ages
beauty was the first lie
god ever told
himself
while for centuries my
thoughts have stolen hungry
kisses from the mouth
of the
sun
moments like these i always
try to remember the
password to the first
speakeasy was a lovesong
whose meaning is worth
more than all the
gold records hanging on
the walls at gates
of
heaven
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