Licentiousness
Conceived as art or prophecy, a dream
Of seers, poetry is jailed. It must
Be free. It must be able to redeem
A broken tea cup and to kiss the mussed
Coiffure of Marilyn before she dies
Of blonde indifference in a clutch of pills.
The poet finds a way to go past sighs,
To reach past Hemingway and gasping gills.
A poem doesn’t want philosophy.
The poem aims for greater things like tongues
That need your spit to find them, yes, to free
Them from their marriage into passion’s lungs.
A sonnet yearns to vomit past pink love
And urges forward to a raping shove.
~ Phillip Whidden
by phillipw | Feb 9, 2025 | PO, SO |