Up to my face like not knowing the grain.
Warn of God’s love and lifetimes of risking
Unwanted caressing of my new love.
I don’t mind experiments of living
Love in a rush to make it into Heaven.
But Hillary is not all love and peace.
She is cunt Jemima. Is living God.
Is this problem surmised. Is as a God
Of love. Love of a beautiful woman.
Love to spot a beautiful woman. Love
On her means. On her fire door. On her
Attempting knowledge. On her beer people
You wanna know. On her Saturday vote.
On her ceiling of black shame. On her meat.
I exist to touch.
As the Supreme Woman’s
At the feet of my creation.
Game strip light through the blinds
That illuminated creations:
Man is the best of these.
(Lines 490-495 of John Gower’s The Lover’s Confession folded in with the introduction to John Gower from the Norton Anthology of English Literature Vol. 1 P 348.)
Same story in the remembrance
Raising episodes of hat vengeance
Ovid’s narrative fairly hadden him ordained,
Suffering women into sustres hadden plained:
Butchers her own child. He was chaunged.
Feels the inescapable owene kinde chaunged.