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CUNT PUSSY DICK COCK FUCK POEM
"Hi, my name is
Jim. I am doing this show on
HBO and I was given your name and
told that you are an
erotic poet."
he had left a
message
on my
machine
a few weeks
prior
but I just
blew it
off
"I am sometimes accused of that, yes."
"Well, we do this program where we
showcase poets with
background and
images.
So, what is your stuff like?"
"Well, I dunno. Why don't I recite a short
piece
and you tell
me."
I rap off a short
sweet
and to the
point
set of words
which include
slap
bite
and
bleed
"We have certain parameters here at
HBO
and we really have to draw the line at
violence and. . ."
"Well, it wasn't about violence. I have another
piece about
obsessive fucking that is
3 or 4 minutes
long."
"Yes, well I need short pieces."
"I don't have anything for you then."
"Well, maybe you could take my number and
if you know of anyone that writes
erotic poetry
you could have them
give me a
call."
"Yeah, sure."
I write down his number and
hang up
I am always suspect of anything that dares to call itself
erotic
bad television and a
t.v. dinner can be
erotic
honest poverty
a crusty towel by the side of the bed
a street corner in the middle of the night
hinged on
a slight rain
fog on empty roads that
stretch forever like a
tense lion
kitchens or
bathrooms are sometimes
especially
nice
flannel nightgowns
and cold cotton sheets charged with anticipation
as couples conspire to
satisfaction
but there is generally
very little to arouse in
poems
poets or
poetry that carry the warning
erotic
like drinking
light beer
or
decaf
they often have little ability to
stimulate
inebriate or
liberate the
senses
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S. A. Griffin
green hills memorial park - march 9. 2000
S.A. Griffin is a crash vampire living in Los Angeles. He is a Cadillac wrangling son of the Lone Star State. His mother was Venus on the halfshell, and his father was a used car salesman. He is rhythm and oxygen.
"If you want good head, you gotta give the best." me
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