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“What magic will you find to stir/ The limp and languid listener?”
— from On the Future of Poetry by Henry Austin Dobson
You squat all full-throated, with your closed eyes,
you whose got no gag reflex, you who knows
how to gag it all down, one who swallows
it all down. My cum stain glows. A surprise
across your face, down your chin. A cock sucker
is born, not made. It’s in your genes, your veins.
Your fat chapped lips are dabbled with the stains
of long practice. Who sang: “put it in your
mouth/ I said your muthafuckin’ mouth”? Limp
listener, my ass! Dig this face-fucking
sonnet in a world of wanna-be pimp
white boy free verse. We love a lil’ sucking
going on. Future of poetry? Right here, shit.
Tell me: do you swallow or do you spit?
memories of my ghost sista 