Sunday, January 6, 2008

Edna's Id

Id was perfect until
she took that course
at the Community college.
Id is everything: the sticky
perimeter of morning's
mocha, Orson's
bald-spot-wink in sun,
her garter's red seam after
twenty-odd years, cellulite.

After that class, all of id
changed, moved up and
down and left her at the
bottom on her bottom,
wishing she still wanted
Orson's bottom
always cold and rough in her
hands at night, afternoon,
morning. His impotent sting,
vacant song. Id is what she
wanted. Knew she couldn't
get id back.

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Does blogging seem vain to anybody else?

Hey--it's neat that you're here reading this. This is an interesting village. I mean, the one I'm making up here. You'll be bored sometimes, sure. But where's the fun in being interesting ALL of the time??

I think it should go without saying, but I have felt the need to say it recently:

All the stuff in this blog, except where otherwise noted, is my intellectual property, and if you'd like to use anything here, kindly seek my approval.