Friday, February 3, 2017

Smarty-Pants Psychologists!

Let’s try to take the measured earthbound view:
evince the sort of body-laden equilibrium
that might just make a fine fit animal of you:

pick through the front-lines of your consciousness
to find the bits that proffer un-symbolic thinking:
“should I stuff an egg or kick a football?” –

something that prevents the sinking
and the bluffing puffery of involuted
self-examinations, with their proto-sicknesses

and folderol and castigations: which, besides which,
get thick in the way those smarty-pants psychologists
you nightly dream into your dreams corral

into a snide cabal, deriding your unblinking  
celebrations of the flesh, than which you think
there are no better ways of living sexually

fresh and free. Scrap their questionably
“fascinating” introspective mesh.
Be a constitutionally un-poetic treat.

Condense into the potent
unadulterated essence
of your dumb inimitable meat.


No comments: