a poem for today, 16 August 2012
[a word-sorted sonnet of twelve sentences and its image]
Victory is the transcendental theme that commands failure itself.
Don’t be one of them.
Nothing is more true in psychoanalysis than its exaggerations.
By 'we' you mean you.
Kisses lead to fondling and fondling leads to penetration.
Which brings us to class.
There are of course many exceptions to these generalizations.
It’s full, but politely so.
You’re not sending out some edgy, hardcore message here.
I just don’t remember release.
We’re also looking for anything other than cock shots.
Only the people that don't want to admit that we're all apples from the same tree try to make it more complicated.