Saturday, July 24, 2010

Two Poems And An Anecdote

 by Joseph Hargraves
 
First Orgasm
 
My first orgasm was spontaneous, intense. I was in first grade in a very strict Catholic school. The Nuns carried hand "clickers" to make the clicking sound to audibly warn us of their awareness. We were each given a box of small squares, each with a letter on them, and a board to spell out words with the squares. The Nun left the room. I accidentally knocked my box of letters on the floor. I was terrified, picking them up as quickly as I could. I was on the floor when the nuns clicker went off, she was right outside the door. I started cumming, and cumming and picking up the letters.
 
Then every day I would drop my box of letters when the Nun left the room. It worked for a long time- but due to practice I got too fast at picking up the letters. I had to know there was a chance I would get caught. Knowing I was not facing a beating I stopped with the letters.
 

 
Pretty Legs
She walked the Park,
eyes straight ahead-
dress: ripped burlap
and safety pins. She
wore black boots
coated with glitter.
On the back calf of each leg
she had a tattoo of one
word of jail-house inked
letters: Fuck You.
Writer's Block
 
I put my dick into her cunt hoping
to trigger a poem I go up and
down thinking of metrics biting nipples
my heart's beating faster she's looking at
her cigarettes I'm not into it she's
pretending to come I'm thinking about
onomatopoeia I fuck her hard
I'm doing this for art she's my 20
dollar muse I pull it out and tell her
to suck it she's a compliant Venus
I'm thinking about AIDS her pussy stinks
she has track marks on her legs I can't come
she looks bored I get up pay and decide
to go home jerk-off and write a sonnet
 
Joseph Hargraves has been reading French poetry and writing a small essay on Shakespeare's first 20 Sonnets. His favorite philosopher is Ludwig Wittgenstein, so he has been catching up on reading him. But one of his biggest joys this week was taking 250 milligrams of Oxy-Contin and re-reading Proust's "On Ruskin and Others" (now more frequently referred to as "On Reading." It is brilliant, and explains his relationship to reading, and lack of relationship to the living.
 
 

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