Issue 9

butch mercutio first time in drags at capulet ball

 · Poetry

infinite monkey theorem says
i monkey in the forest
of almost surely
take it in sense, feel it
i’m a pretty piece of flesh
thou fish, poor john, draw thy tool
u man u beast w. horny rage
yr torture prince beseeming ornament
          [weird old men depart]
swung his sword & broke wind withal
hiss’d in porn’s interpolating
thrust & blow—butthurt, came more&more
till the prince came        O, where is romeo

private in his chamber pens himself
an artificial night so secret to his bit bud,
his wormy sweet sounding, bucking young studs,
come, romeo, such is love’s trans/
gression—prest & propagated EXEUNT

romeo doth boff my vex’d and choking sea,
          so in sadness, on the DL,
do i live dead to tell it?
stuck blindly retroviral by his cakey bathroom swagger,
all haloed rotting lordship, mammalian, and I, by god,
so ripely bridal’d do feed that dogma till I die.

          strung up, strappado’d,
I sump’d his saint-seducing stiffy —
gold & lacquered, ay, i bade him come & yeah,
quoth he, dost thou fall upon thy face?
& yeah, quoth i, then lay yr wormwood to my dug,
& in the sun, under dove-house wall, my lord dug
& felt it bitter, pretty fool, w. jest & gambol suck’d
a big sore tooth. tut tut tut. i know the language & pray
thee: come. knock and ENTER, and no sooner in,
but betook him to his legs and he was done.

o senseless cock-a-hoop stick’st in such muck,
what have we. in bed asleep i dream’d of you,
dumb colt. anon a nonce a nose, you foot it, boy.
nuzzled my big butted crupper, sluttish hairs, & smelly
little pig tail. this is the trick, this is the hag:

when i lie on my back, expect nothing, beget nothing.
wordwarts bloom in spectral legions along our lonely,
our pilgrim lips & bitter industry. O trespass,
the weft of me has slipped,
give me my sin again.

This poem adapts language from Romeo & Juliet.

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