"Then something went wrong for Fay Wray & King Kong-
they got caught in a sensual jam�?- Rocky Horror Picture Show

We have sex on Sunday mornings with the windows open-
finding voyeurism less blasphemous
than atheism.

The cathedral's spires are phallic;
bells cry like women-
drown out his climatic prayers.

When I cry, he kisses my tears away. He licks his lips
they taste of stale beer and pretzels
that aren't salty enough ground between my toes.

Art is best done naked and barefoot and under the influence
of drugs- it's a nature thing.

The world is made of fog�?BR>so I give up my dreams and read poetry aloud
about Venus and sex and irrational numbers.

He calls it an auditory acid trip and I wonder what red tastes like
to a blind man. He believes that Venus hates
the breasts she examines as much as I hate mine.

If heaven were in the palms of our hands,
and our hands were the size of barn doors:
the gate slipped through careless fingers.