Monday, March 2, 2009
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Hello.
Dear Fonzie, I'm going to sleep and I am thinking of you. I go up those outside stairs with you and into your apartment and you close the door. You call me Shortie and ask me how I am and I say, Good. You don't believe me, you press the theme, and I give in, yes, it has not been good. You bring in this guy over here and the three of us hold each other until morning.
I hope I don't have nightmares.
I wonder if the Fonz has nightmares? It would be nice if girl dinosaurs were mares.
xoxJennifer
anne sexton yelling at the dog
Want to know what Anne Sexton sounds like yelling at the dog? It is worth it to see the whole thing, but it is really the parts in between the poems that kill, esp. that very first spot.
retouched
My parents are in the other room. I'm uploading this instead. I need a retouch. If you know what I mean.
quick, telegraph it, the babies will want me again soon
I would like to be chased down and eaten by a major carnivore. I would hope it licks as well as bights. I imagine the world would go white and light-filled and she would look at me with erotic sorrow and stroke me with her tongue to comfort me now and then as she eats. Face facts, it would not hurt. Ask the monumentally damaged, they all say it: no pain, all just wanting to get in a comfortable position. But in a tiger's arms might be okay. T'rex'd eat me in one bight, Jaws style. Might be a nice squeeze down the throat.
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