Old poems and older poems. The art in here is far more recent - all illustration tiles were made between April 20, 2024 and May 12, 2024.
Some of these poems were published in a chapbook, Eleusinian Mysteries, in 1995, under the pen name Sarah Maddo...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
No more. It is space. It is gone. Gone is the sweet task of pleasure from here, on paper, on tongue, and I rock from side to side, swinging, spasming with my attempts to reach being, but there is no fruition. Words trickle from my mouth only barely. This self died long ago. A heart that does not pump pushes my pen.
My thirst for lust is excruciating. Already the universe begins to bleed into a mouth distended with craving. I choke on clauses, on sensation. I have become the point. This is the cost of not surrendering. The raging on. I give in and fight possession. Rocking. Biting empty air. Groaning. Forcing.
