99, and: 33, and: 77, and: 11

99

i'm not going to read you a poem by Ezra Pound mom informs me on the phonei'm going to read you the last law to come out this year which is also poetry and you'll be happyto know people can get married with just social security numbers now and nothave to wait to be a resident just be a person and want to get marriedto read as many poems by Ezra Pound as you want to each other wheneveryou want and in the position you choose mom informs me on the phonepeople can get married with just social security numbers and not have to waitto be a resident just a person and want to get married to read as many poemsby Ezra Pound as you want to each other whenever you wantand in the position you choose i keep repeating a chatterbox subject to changesit's not to read poems much less by Ezra Pound that i'll get married to you it's soyou'll enter me whenever you want and wherever you want and the wayyou like and tear everything and make everything unholy if you want to or not

33

the getting off i do waiting for Godot smells like mackerel in tomato saucewithout tomato or oil or basil or low flame or high flameemotionally worse than getting off at two in the morningwanting to ring the doorbells of all the doors in my buildingand at each door to ask for a match to light the stoveeach day of this year when my thirtieth birthday is observedi'd lie if it would prove getting off while waiting can make me happyturn me back into a woman with tomato and with oil and with basiland certainly with mackerels everywhere in my body and mind and spiriti'd lie if it would prove that by moving a finger slow fast slowi'd forget what i have to do from now oni'd lie if my spirit imagined one dayin this surprising year when something already said in other lines is observedGodot returned being himself and being everything i needed

77

my God you gave me a live pig's tongue that quivered in the electric cookerand it stuck its tongue out at me spurred me to bark at it and bite it and stickit up myvaginaa pig's tongue plump and pink like my tongue quivering just like my tongue iknow that quiver i know how to move it just like that and cause the sameprovocation the same happiness my God that gift fell straight out of heavendrove me crazy made me go off the deep end theworstit was when it softened leaving mobility behind leaving me behind i led it thereat that time and space of drowsiness its death lasted half an hour my God whyis death beautiful and why do we delight in it if all it actuallywantsis to keep on wagging its tail living for always on the face of the earth the faceof any country even the United States of America a country we already knowis a synonym for cooker so I got out my knife and I got out my fork and I atethe tongue and nowi'mgoing to go to bed to sleep hard and i'll dream of you quivering in the cooker

11

my soul's full of metaphors acquired from generation after generationmy soul's full of more or less fascinating similes that witness the kindness in memy soul possesses a great hyperbaton encysted on the right side measuringvarious millimetersand on the left likewise encysted a palpable excessive onomatopoeiamy soul has a hyperbole related to the need for feminine and masculine affectthis...