Category: Poetry Publisher: March Street Press
Copyright: 2005
a literary exploration of the suckiness of men
Apart Of the World
Do you feel the same nest of wasps
when you kiss me
that I feel being kissed
falling into nothing,
then buzzing back to life;
the same little death
when you throw me onto the bed
that I feel when I am thrown
floating down to a planet
of crumbling rock and no atmosphere?
Or are you simply a plant
who turns towards the sun?
They are all mating in the grass
billions of eggs hatching
in the warm black dirt.
And I am as dry as a lunar river,
where no tadpole, crab,
or chick will ever hatch.
But I am pulled by the same wet
marsh song of bugs rubbing legs
wondering if, for me, its just sacred
masturbation, or an elaborate handshake
to touch the center of your being.
Using Calgary as a backdrop the author satirizes the self-serving nature of the public as it continues to fatten itself, not only physically, but egotistically as well.
