----- Original Message -----
From: "Kenneth Wolman" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Thursday, January 24, 2008 9:21 PM
Subject: Mistake corrected
> This is how it should be broken--
>
>
> PHONE SEX 2: CYRANO
>
> People call 900 numbers and pay for this--
> the genitalic equivalent of defecation.
> In both: passing relief, from the body expelling
> either toxins or the want of love,
> but the soul, too, empty at birth, returns to its void.
> You slosh alone through a desert of sticky underwear
> and hopeless sentiments.
>
> You weren't in the far-off land of the woman who drew you,
> You were right where you sat, telephonic demon luster,
> legs splayed like a vasectomy patient,
> but got to be Poet because she would
> whisper into your phone "Kiss my cunt"
> and all you had were the performative words,
> miraculous cunnilingual speech,
> to raise her breath to crying gasps.
>
> In the same Masque of Passion you would speak
> her down on you, paint a word picture
> to drive you both insane because you could
> combine Fragonard's aether with Georg Grosz's stench.
>
> But when she would speak as herself, a bid
> to raise your spirit, it was pedestrian,
> worked only because even her words were
> your private object of desire. And you,
> with secret contempt, owned a pornographer's heart,
> while all she had was loneliness and the itch
> of a body surrounded with plaster.
>
> KTW/1-24-08
>
> --
Great ending.
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