I wrote this about two years ago for Emily Johnson's erotic poetry book that has yet to be published. I must have just gotten back from Boston because I remember seeing this illustration of a pilgrim hat in a taxi and couldn't get the image out of my head. Needless to say, the whole erotic poem thing isn't something I write very much... at all. Emily's going to scan a drawing she did for the book in response to the poem.
.
.
CDFT&OH
a man ashamed of his fetishes fancies discretion more than sex. I’ll be honest. I used to want just The Pilgrim Girl, but now it’s far more multinational, more languages than I care to learn – it’s the Pilgrim Girl & something unattainable & obscure, like a pile of catalogues waiting for recycle or the arousing properties of a plasma
watch over me, Pilgrim Girl & attached yourself to rebellion’s principle – wear nothing but your father’s black Pilgrim hat with the shiny buckle in the front. In the moonlight, walk around like a Puritan commando, climbing the bristlecone pines to masturbate, as wet as
there’s a boy in the colony who unlaces her shoes at night &; sucks on those laces
there’s a man who hung himself in the community center to stave the desire
there’s me, satisfied by allegory & binoculars
have you ever been on an airplane, Pilgrim Girl? I always mean to patron the duty free shop, but never do. In the concourse, teach me to feed you without reaching too far, collapsing your mighty substructure & the unsuspecting traffic above. Come down from there & onto here
learn yourself & pass it on
a man ashamed of his fetishes fancies discretion more than sex. I’ll be honest. I used to want just The Pilgrim Girl, but now it’s far more multinational, more languages than I care to learn – it’s the Pilgrim Girl & something unattainable & obscure, like a pile of catalogues waiting for recycle or the arousing properties of a plasma
watch over me, Pilgrim Girl & attached yourself to rebellion’s principle – wear nothing but your father’s black Pilgrim hat with the shiny buckle in the front. In the moonlight, walk around like a Puritan commando, climbing the bristlecone pines to masturbate, as wet as
there’s a boy in the colony who unlaces her shoes at night &; sucks on those laces
there’s a man who hung himself in the community center to stave the desire
there’s me, satisfied by allegory & binoculars
have you ever been on an airplane, Pilgrim Girl? I always mean to patron the duty free shop, but never do. In the concourse, teach me to feed you without reaching too far, collapsing your mighty substructure & the unsuspecting traffic above. Come down from there & onto here
learn yourself & pass it on
2 comments:
I'd like to know when this gets published.
I just want to see the damn illustration.
EMILY!?
Post a Comment