These lines no longer
Suffice. Drawings are dead to
Me. My mind and hand
-
Reject their nature
Representation for me
Is a pointless act.
-
I’ll write dripping words.
Vinegar or honey to
Lick from my fingers.
-
I’ll breastfeed you thoughts.
Paint my anguish and pleasure
Without your colors.
-
Spoon feed you baby,
So you can feel each morsel
Of sugar dissolve
-
On that moist tongue of
Yours, salivating for my
Imagination.
-
I’ll make you wet and
Hard and so full you will cry,
Pleading me for more.
-
You invite me in,
To your mind, stomach, and chest,
And there we learn trust.
-
Because I enter
Only with consent, I ask
If you will read me.