Litkicks Message Board Archive

Marginalia

Spring day April is no cruel month the exoskeleton
of health of life of virtue but what is virtue these
days it has become a device a danger virginal purity

an acid eating the womb inside/out prickly absence
of other marginalised from birth must I crawl
from the space round the words from the edges face
slimy with placenta dragging entrails and gore sticky the smells

of woman and meat and tasty a delectable dish to delight
is to eat is to grow to grow retreat you hags of fate crunch spit
and blow do I really have a God who cannot abide the scent
of my flesh ? dirty and horrid and foul to the nose my God what
scent glands are these I cannot disguise the stench of my race

animal too many heads with no body in the holy word where am I
and my offensive odour I am no concubine no widow no mother
of sweet Jesus where am I where am I no call for castigation
or death where am I and my human scent I don’t want it do you

hear no castigation no death but celebrate for God this is life this is
beautiful April the spring wondrous spring day leap leaping the crocus
and daffodils he said there is nothing more no nothing more he said
there are crocuses and daffodils and the sun consecrate let me leap
in you boy let me dive right in dive in deep we shall praise in our own
way the position of bodies beautiful and gay for this is joy this is
human come you crazed jugglers of fate take the balls in my hand
and spin gleeful this is our day






(again, i can't make the computer work. there's supposed to be bigger spaces between some of the phrases to seperate them up a bit, but what can you do when you're as technologically incompetant as I am?!)