Thursday, May 30, 2013

BONER (ERR, BUTT) FOR BOOKS: "PLEASURE'S TRADER JOE'S"



If I can't be a cover model, at least I can copy one.  

BSD reader Angelo Nikolopoulos recently mailed me a copy of his very own book.  Yes!  A book he wrote himself, a book of poetry: "Obscenely Yours". 

With titles like "Anonymous Creampies: Auditions" and "Fisting: Treading the Walls", it was hard picking just one poem to share with you.  I settled on "Self Suck", if for no other reason than in loyalty to my affection for Trader Joe's Mediterranean hummus:

Maybe more's not merrier but messier,
since you can be your own

object and taste of desire, both surrender
and control in one wet exchange.

Intimacy's frontbend: the torso strong-
armed against wall or swivel chair

until the sex dips into the same body's 
mouth.  It's like watering

and being watered at the same time.
Fall seven times

and you'll stand up full.  Slippery logic:
the snake who ate its tail.

Maybe it's the true preservationism,
cutting out the middleman--

him or her--making it local and organic,
pleasure's Trader Joe's.

But sustainability's never sexy,
canvas clad in its carbon-cock-blocking.

If you can't save the penguins please yourself,
objectivism's golden rule.  

To be volition and validation, lover and love,
a recipient handing himself money.

But a party of one's no fun--
even autoeroticism's depressing.

Like a return to the wellspring of childhood,
where we confronted it face-first,

our awful cub scout truth,
that we enter the valley unchartered and alone

and we must leave it this way, too.  



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