Not for, like, anybody, Kev
I’d twunk out for you,
and accoutrements. I’ve
got no letter 8, no 12 AM
not even an article nor crummy demonstrative
in Greek no letter but a diacritical wobble it tells you to puff
one Greek name for wood and matter
a second for Berkeley’s materialist bimboy an
Argonaut twunk lost like a duffel bag in transit
Kevin I lose no letters of your name,
or mine, or Candy Darling’s
our common initial good
in small like one or two doses
but, okay. I’d take it again.
Salut to private language, diagnoses,
blondes collected to Candy’s platinum arms
In a private language I discovered:
do I like Bataille or do I like-like Bataille
does Bataille like-like me
does Kevin like-like Kylie
nobody will learn, until a volume of your
collected Works cracks open
to elegy, or dance moves on a mis-
adventurous floor, swinging my bag
In a private language I told you wow
and you said wow wow wow
and everybody else administered
an additional wow until it was time,
please, to say it again
This is an article from our Spring 2020 issue, “Influence.”
