April is poetry month. So I’ll write a poem a day.

April 2, 2012

this is the word of  the woman strapped

This is the word of the woman

strapped –

acquired by pure intuition

and thought out pathways.

I clawed my way to her feet.

Genderless in

over-thought algorithms and

nervous admissions.


They said she was quiet.

Her stitched up lips are

invisible because

“That’s just how it goes, baby.”


She dies

as the ground calls

out for her to

stay still.

(“Why don’t you go fuck yourself?” she says

to me.

“If I could I would,” I says to her.

My want is stronger.)

“Turn it up,” she says.

I did.

Her translucent tongue sharp

at the wit.

Composing myself slowly

so I could hear the

mellifluous padded steps

in her dancing

equal to the stars in understanding

and my longing

for what I can not be.

He or she.

Raised up hips

Take nothing

But my hopes


I am not perfection

And neither is she.

I am a walking erection


by and by

I exist only

in her word.


April 1, 2012


There’s a well at the bottom of your heart and it goes down down down down down there’s a well at the bottom of your soul and I swim up up up up up blood in my lungs I still drown happily.

– JV


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