void this misogyny

avoid this misogyny
my peculiar hatred
                              of a familiar with you
                              of a political biology

my careful study
of your ability to control your bladder better
than i

                              means you can defer relieving yourself
                              until, maybe, your mid-forties
your chromosomes of patriarchy pushes to provide you
the stamina to consume and put up much shit
in the nervous introduction of the “boyfriend”
and i hate your for it

                              the real woman was made up
                              of asking-why chromosomes
                              but radiation treatment
                              during media sessions,
                              deforming you from visionary
                              to tele-visionary,
                              and drug therapy
                              in exchange for human stupor contact
                              has reduced you
and i hate you while i covet your genetic material
a fine human linen soaked with the semen
of the dominant, brutal individual
your marriage to him was only status breeding
he had the means, it appeared, to build your pedestal

you embraced the possibilities in such masonry
you granted him a degree in socializing engineering
and turned your attention to tabloid details
entranced in the bacterial consumer culture,
getting on with clean american “normal life”
on a white plastic dollhouse dish
peppered with marijuana seeds

                              —over 19 square feet
                              of personal retail space
                              and the sales floor
                              keeps growing…

you purchase this male vessel
the proposed chamber for your exhale
shaped like a father figurine
manufactured with the same colors and textures
of your dream house

this picket wooden object should not clash
with your décor, accented with a motif
from the Isle of Lesbos, sunken “treasure”
looking to be recovered, threatening to surface

                              and i hate you for it

i am not enough of a “man”
i am not enough of a “man”
to take command of the cowardly moments
when you are passive and hiding in wait
desires quietly standing in plain sight
when the nudity is only your body,
revealing nothing
i am not enough of a “man”
i am not enough of a “man”
to further intoxicate your mystified numbness
to carry out the trance to the little princess
to pour on the macho bottled confidence

i know it’s something like that
and i hate you for it


with no intuitive childhood knowledge
of a functional two-parent household:

                              it was only mother
                              keeping you
                              out of the kitchen
                              trying to prevent
she fixed a child-safety seal
on your adult life of adult intimacy
grown-folk, co-ed, communal homemaking
you see there is no mention of him
since he “ain’t shit”
baby, you on
your own
grab that fashioned male:
you want you and a chain
of hyphenated last names

                              to digest the conflict
                              pass him through
                              your mind and body
                              as an erotic emetic

but thousands of complex dollars have been spent
in the family court of sophisticated law
and the mystery, still not put to rest
and i hate you for it
                              this bulky trinket is still your man
                              and you know i am not this man
                              and how much youth shall you rend on this man?

you know i am not this masculine ornament
your refined sophistication
your years of education
is stunted, tuned,
narrowed down
to detect only this fine point
i miss the mark, being not the subject of your anthropology,
being not your vanity publishing in expensive psychotherapy
the cologne of the strongest odor pours into you
yes, the button with his car keys and the metallic vibration
of a soothing phallic voice deep in a chest…

                              “i have a voice; this is a real man”

                              “he is the most effective, the most rewarding”

                              “i can see it; it is so easy for me to feel his power”

—your attorney, she has the photographs of the face wounds to prove it
—fifty percent of all marriages end in divorce
and, no, the glass is half empty

—and i leave the pathos of domestic violence
for your football-hero poems

—heart failure is your leading cause of death
and i hate you and your bad, non-conscious decisions

                              and i hate you when you want to get away from me
                              politely checking for your safety

i am not the grave matter inherited from mother
i am not the life or death issue
i am simply not attractive to you

                              so i am gently repulsed
                              like a toddler with full diapers
                              i am left pissed off
                              and waiting to get laid
                              on the change table
                              of the perfect mother
                              who would command
                              and wipe me clean

so my private parts
can cool from my own body heat

so my excretions and discharges
can be recorded

surely all of the details lie in my genitals
like all the rest of us that came before me?

                              for this, the embryo expects…
                              the infant needs, baby
                              can i call you baby?
                              or am i simply ugly
                              and alone in this?
until we meet again i say,

                              nice to meet you
                              i’ll grow out of this

and you say, “you do that.”

happy shopping…

                              half off…

year-end clearance.
[click to view introduction]