O World I Cannot Hold Thee Close Enough

Sometimes I question the whole
Enterprise, I mean the whole
Thing, the whole
Universe which is the one
Verse, the one great
Poem. Sometimes I think
It sucks so bad it’s beyond
Revision, beyond
Hope. I mean after the Big

Bang, I mean after the First
Fuck, they should have just
Flushed it down a black hole
You know? I mean it
Would have saved us all a lot of
Time and Space. But I only
Think that sometimes. Other times
I want to open a window and just
Make love to the whole World,
I mean the whole Earth.
This usually happens in the Spring
When the sweet and sour morning breath
Of Earth just waking up, the sweaty
Neck and breasts and tangled hair and
Ripe armpits of Earth
Stretching after long sleep
Can make me fall in love with the whole
World, the Whole
Enterprise of Earth, and all I want
Is to lick the sleep from Earth’s eyes,
Lick the milk from Earth’s magnificent nipples,
Smell the faintly sweet irresistible smell
Of urine on Earth’s sheets,
And just follow it to its source,
Sniffing it out, licking it, eating it, loving it.

About Paul Hostovsky

Paul Hostovsky's poems appear and disappear simultaneously (Voila). His work has recently been sighted in places where they paid him for his trouble with his own trouble doubled, and other people's troubles thrown in, which never seem to him as great as his troubles, though he tries not to compare. He has no life, and spends it with his poems, trying to perfect their perfect disappearances, which is the working title of his new collection, which is looking for a publisher and for itself. To read more of his poems, visit his website by clicking the link above.


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