the evolution of chat

once it was confined
behind the sexxx lines
buried in the back ads
of mags and zines
but nowadays its online
rather than party line

and it keys us into

"...the texture of lambswool,
of broadcloth, can speak a name in runes."
-m.piercy, touch tones

this is my body
this, my bread of misery
scars that thread across
bones that twist beneath
runes that etch your name

this is my blood
this, my cup of suffering
lips that curl around
tounges that strip apart
alphabets that breathe your pain

do this:
    caress these erotic wounds
    in rememberance of me


what drove me screaming from the university that second year
was a thin book entitled 'the body mutinys' perhaps, the title
fails me at the moment. a book of poetry, wrapped in plastic

today, some 2 1/2 years later, I found that same volume buried
at the bottom of a brown cardboard box, the plastic still snug
against its pages. I can't recall the author.


eyes closed & face buried
into the crook of my arm
......................music playing
and in this blackness I am
no age, all ages, my form
......................falls away
become rapture,
......................become meaning
an interaction free of the restrictions
imposed by my space-time location
in conscious mesmerized dreaming "we just let them think we're in our own little world"