the genius of fucking
josh davis
The genius of fucking
(from what I can remember—)
is that it comprises 80% of our thoughts
and yet so little of our overt meanings
leaving so much free
s p a c e
That I say throw down your dance beat veils,
Metaphors for the nascent intellectual awakening of North America,
Wall paper reverie,
Toilet cleaners,
Waking up early to pay the electric bill,
dog for a walk, buy her chocolate ice cream,
poem on the unguarded masses, etc.
Drop!
I say stain your sheets!
Wipe her off with your will!
(or better, your tongue!)
Write only in bodily fluids,
Sleep only when you’re out of reasonable substitutes for lubricant,
Piss strawberry jello
And erect national monuments that don’t look remotely like erections,
But exactly like erections,
nipple, cunt, cock, thigh, sweat, lip-to-tongue,
the light rift of teeth,
limbs like soft clay,
Eyelashes memorized,
Light-headedness found outside the six pack,
tapping other things than the Rockies,
winding fingers breaking clocks,
tearing down cloth ornament excuses and
Doing away with hellos and goodbyes
Until the only conversations left
Are:
-Yes!
-God!
-Fuck!
-a little to the left!
-Faster!
-Slower!
-mrkgnao!
Rolling, clawing, dripping, hovering,
Christening every new room as if your pores leak holy water,
Drinking only from navels,
Pausing only to admire the exhaustion you’ve created
and the peace you’ve defined
and the humanity you’ve ignited
and the honesty after
I say:
-sing, laugh, ponder, compose, dance, garden,
Burn down summary statements,
Kill off commercial breaks,
and simmer until well done,
Air exhausted,
Seeping glow of kinetic satisfaction,
Den of truth,
Harp music upper lip,
Numbness,
Square miles,
Operatic impossibilities erased,
Sheer deafness,
Impossibly languid,
Asleep,
or dead—
