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The sculptor and his model

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Rodin and Gwen: Metamorphosis. Yes ,when she came to him, she was blind spirit, a luminous girl. Yes!, he did suck her eyes out of her head, and swish them round in his mouth, tasting them, flavoursome, before pouring them back into her eyes sockets- so yes ,of course she wept, that was the beginning of her tears... So, yes, he did pull her tongue down his hoary throat, where it flexed bravely, in the gouty, slimy dark place of endless gurgling and volcanic heave ho's. Yes, she did keep cats, so what? He torched her hair, it caught fire, he breathed flames from her toes to the top of her head, she crawled from the molten lava of the vat, and her hands were webbed – she stood examining her webbed fingers, she was naked, she felt sensual. He said : I am God, I am sacred ‘ She shot him a look, he crumbled, and chased her round the studio, belly rumbling, big fat man on thunderous thighs- he caught her but she resisted, and round his frame, draped the gold...
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The Reproach of Butterflies : some thoughts on the origins of Lolita

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The Reproach of Butterflies. : some thoughts on the origins of Lolita. The elegant plunder of a child,male academics, they buzzed, they itched,they twitched. Vera,she's in the kitchen drenched with the wafting scents ,her husband is perfuming,standing at his lectern,creating the waif,the demonic she,Lolita. A butterfly drawing ,she received like a kiss,when manuscripts were complete. How hard they worked. And Vera, she could not bear if a butterfly was not properly pinched,if it still fluttered grieviously before the thumb and forefinger and the quick hit . We may not know : but Professor is there something like a drug, the little butterfly exudes,in its death throes,something it emits? That makes you drunk? Delivers a dying sting ? The longer it is kept in the Band Aid box, still with a little life,the more it exudes its drowsy making death scent? Did you know Professor, you were getting a hit,having a little trance experience, as you inhaled ...
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Cuckolds: poems

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 Cuckolds. They surely were Those big men sobbing on Sweethearts breasts, cuckolds. For that one you may be sure of it, That She Fucked with a swan And hatched it Called it ‘ my own’ Nursed it on swollen breasts That Leda! But who can forget the other one The Minotaur, quiet in its field Fed some seven virgins When she, that Pasiphae snuck from her husbands bed To stare at the great beast And its astonishing member Back she came that very night in Little quiet slippers, disrobed and well.. where do you think you Got your Curly hair and bad attitude from Zeus, she said it was a God! But see here, that other one The oracle, the One kept in the cave, O, the frightful visage of the old Sibyl kept without a man to trot out God knows what mad talk! Kept so long she wrinkled like a Prune And hung suspended in a cage all Oracular fury ,until she died of it. The reigning one they say is young raving Mad and lovely though and can tell You how you’ll die as well All inscribed on s...
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