Sent By Post to Mr. Crispin Hellion Glover / by D.M. Jerman

2 ErotiXperimental Pieces: "Johnny" and "Josephine"

"Johnny" - nov/dec/2k11

1.
Johnny can taste the sun.
The talent of his vision bleeds wholesome softness into the darkest corners, and into the caves of men.
Johnny is the bringer of great undoings
and in this way, he is a friend to all things created, which must then be devised of an ending.

He does not spare to give warning where none is needed.
His non-belief in hidden things removes time. It is never too dim or too late for true savory softness to compel others to weep their lightest breath.

2.
Johnny is today, engaged. Lurked.
Johnny is unrumpled and clean as a profanity of motion.
Johnny goes about as the sea, or as a library.
As an ineffable nothing.
Commissioning wishes to become efforts.
Johnny dreams into unmasking places,
Where the mosques are full of naked women. Each one named sovereign. Each one different.
Johnny observes. Translates.
Indulges infinite pareidolia.
guh
oh
nnee
oh
a
guhhne.

Johnny=Polymath

The man too smooth for the scene. Lithe and intimate talking down cloudbursts.
Building coffins to bury drowned midnights.
Johnny.
Telephone and the telephone call to fleeting worlds.
The letter from the dead man's wife.
A woman who is also a sister
stolen like wine from a church.
Johnny- you bright dime! Spent in the name of enlightenment.
A divine resuscitation.

3.
A conversion of ink,
brass and flesh female
J becomes conversation, continuation, chop-chop
reveille
from alien life.
The echoes of a giggle of irresponsible future.

Sure,
Johnny knows fantastic danger
as much as the next inbred crime-practiced
exponent.
He can denounce all the necessary shrines,
but never enough complaints to build a following.

Real lepers cannot leap, or form orders.

Yes, all Johnny's laugh. Johnny laughter- each Johnny gonad jumping restless and symptomless with the industry of it.

Women contract the abject romanticism of that ritual argument and all the Johnny-flavored forts to follow.
All women whose tits are austere frowns are belittled and put to bed publicly.

Bulwark. Prominent conformist: Johnny.
His environs pisswalls- strange and strong as money.
His coos all patriarchal indiscretions.

4.
Hello.
Let's establish hereforthwith
the expected utility.

Johnny's insubstantial and extraterrestrial
infantilism
distributing kiss-crisis
natural as ontology
masturbating to burial for schedule.
For formal reactions.

Give god to your Johnny's to chant
home a wet law.
And how happy duality is to have found you both!
Hearkened, and numerical!

If you are a woman, you are a V.
And if a Johnny- F.

Appearing to feed- infectious and unsuspected.
Too slummed to live along the lateral year.

The price comes in fives.


- - -

From "Josephine" (June 2k11)


The sun is up & high & bright & she's still in bed with curtains pulled. A victim of reverse paradise, with the man gone to work.
His yesterdays t-shirt bunched up in the corner like a big, elongated skull. Dream seepage caring back. In some post-reality glimpsed at his alarm, she's kissing a man she knows in real life but has never before kissed. Deep, hard, wet kissing.
After too, recalling arrivals, comings & goings of women of a previous acquaintance, each laced with mixed messages of dreamselves layered into collective experience without language.
And so, she finds wakefulness & reaches for the 1st drug- her pussy. Last night it was hot & wet & worked over from the man's pumping penis. His body's hot action a thrusting orgasmic magnet.
She hesitates, still resting, listening for the sounds of the women up in the next room. In & out of the bathroom with efficiency and timeliness of having somewhere to be.
If he were the one masturbating now on this very bed, on his back, kissing the air. He would be whispering her name as jisim spilled from the tip of his erect cock. Thought after thought of a good ripe throb thrills the body into the little death.
Into the exhaustion of a perfect feeling.