Found Poem #1: the pale skinned virgin priest

found poetry is my new thing. its when you overhear something or see something written somewhere that converges interestingly with something you are doing or have just done. convergence poetry, found poetry…here it is:

the story: i left a harm reduction class and was walking down the street and a store was blaring a speech and the person said – will you learn of discipline from the pale skinned virgin priest?’. this poem came next:

i went to the pale skinned virgin priest
but he could tell me nothing of love, lust or devotion
he'd never felt the overwhelming pull of those oceans
nor succumbed to that aching crux of want turned need
never tasted the knife so sweet you suck till you bleed
the hunger that reminds you we are half dream half beast

i went to the wide eyed work whored saint
but she couldn't recall her days spent in the dark
how razor sharp big love is the mouth of a shark
how the sweet honeyed finger makes sure it amazed you
how love that close to madness allows for no phase two
and finally you choose not what a thing is, but what it ain't

to which my friend janine suggested a new last line:

in the end you choose not the song but the echo, now faint

which i truly like.

its stunningly gorgeous outside and i am going to read work isht out there!

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