Tag Archives: daughter

bucktail

20 Sunday Apr 2014

Posted by in Poetry, sonnet

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The best monsters are the worms that bucktail;
their glint in curves, in an upswinging mess

brought by revelations. Lifting his veil,
he showed us blight, his death-head grin. Undress

before me only if you have breath, death’s wish.
Gods! Go down three paths — despite her mohawk,

wide hips, breasts, despite bravado, girlish
ass, her laugh — she was well endowed with cock

and great heavy balls. She was alien,
the one thing that you fear. I loved a queen

who placed her eggs in the chest of her host,
just to watch offspring burst forth – daughter, son,

holy ghost – my lovers are all obscene,
ethereal – daughter, son, holy ghost.

without

04 Monday Mar 2013

Posted by in Feminism, Illustration and art, Poetry, sonnet

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lost in the snow

Daughter, how many years does a woman
have? You are now shapeless and I a lice

ridden old man. You knew all the Koran
by heart. You could wrestle any boy twice
your weight. The long bow sang only for you.
So did the war ax. Now I itch with grief.

From the vast and bleak steppe country a few
worn sobs can be heard. There is no relief
for the father I’ve become. I despair.

I’m lost beyond words. All I know now fails
me; all because of some mongrel swordsman.

Somewhere in a grave you hide; with your hair

that has stopped growing; and your tiny nails

that will never need to be cut again.

one hung bull

28 Friday May 2010

Posted by in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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“Myth says Dionysus was sown up in Zeus’ thigh
while Athena burst from his head.”

He lied. Today is your thirteenth birthday.
Today I’ll tell you who you are, Daughter
of the Thigh. Some say you were sea-born. They
claim they saw. But how could they? My nightmare
child, you are not mine. He was a liar.
He came in my sleep, in dream. He pulled you
out of me. Like so, sewed you up, an hour
of work, into his thigh. An old god, who
was one hung bull, this country girl’s lover.
He lied. It’s a lie to believe your birth.
Are you surprised to find out you’re a thigh
born-child? That I am neither your mother
or dead father? It all started with earth
and fire. He cut you out and made a lie.