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From "thirsty poems"

tarzan goes 50,000 leagues under the sea

not like the submersible crashing through the undergrowth and collapsing from the bulbous nose cone on,
but, actually the submersible crashing through the undergrowth and collapsing from the bulbous nose cone down.

fuck! how the yellow arséd bald headed primates chatter
and rain down their perfectly understandable displeasure.

...coming to the waterhole, there is no fucking
“...coming to the waterhole” permitted here in kinshasa county.

sixty two years and then the subtle contraction I
see myself for the first time as if from some side out side
and once garnered that approach never goes away.
shyness, excruciating rehabilitation of the slightest
faux pas’s and lo! how it escalates so, je souffre!

with fateful momentum, the submersible goes on, fucking up the jaunty
jungle, mangling the delicate, ecospheric, points of balance...balance.

(then. there is my own protestant whiteness
held in behind the glance of you lot up there
for the first time “you love you really love me”
in my rubber suit and my iron helmet I appeal.)

wish me luck and kiss me on the mouth,
and I open the helmet a touch and touch.

I am about to embark on a long and arduous journey
-----
First published in Ramraid Extraordinaire

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