POEM BY WALLACE STEVENS

When I dream in red I mostly dream in blue,
Of the sloppy winds and sprawling bush,
A slovenly wilderness made crude
By a firm and heavy hand,

With tall, capricious fingers lost
In all their hard-won echolalia,
Typing ta-ta-la-di-da, all night
All night long goes my eulalia,

And through the soft filter of my astigmatism
I saw the most intimate of meats,
Heavenly labias where there ought to have been
A hellish and brutal sleep,

Wink as they will and wink as they wince,
Wenches from whence never ever
Came redder weather; still drumming
And thumbing the air as I slept.

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from Deep Fakes–published by Mercury Firs

Buy it on the Mercury Firs website soon? I got mine at NOPF

—

By Stella Corso 👍