I write to know you’re wrong. I write like John Wayne Gacy was a marauding clown. I write like how John Curtis Holmes masturbates. I write like how Billie Eleanora Harris Holiday sings “Strange Fruit”. I write exactly how Henry Charles Bukowski got whiskey dick. I write like how Lizzie Andrew Borden swung her axe. I write like the one whispering voice in the back pew of the Sanctuary not having to compete with the loudspeaker voice from the pulpit. I am the one true Poet laureate. Richard Wagner foretold my arrival in 1849. I am the avatar a Sundancer attempted to awaken. My words will haunt you in your slumber and be engraved on plagues, buildings, statues, and headstones. My quotes will be tattoos. I will be immortal. My love poems will be read at weddings and funerals. Mathematicians suffering from ennui will find my codes. Muriel Rukeyser...
Where conspiracy theories meet feminist theories. (And sometimes there's poems).