half ‘o woman

She tripled around the crown and whooshed out of her seat all up in a rush.  Girrrl – he had said words.  Yes he had!  He had said words that mad the heart of a girl leap straight up wiggity whack, onto the floor — with da SPLAT!  What you ask all curious-like would a poem about egypt have anything to do with that?  A man rises with the spirit of the poet, speaking about sexual violence toward women, spewing in sympathic bits, chunks really — he asked himself what words he was hearing, what words he was saying.  tremendous surge of energy.  fantasy of spoken word.  a guy with a tweedle-dum rainbow cap spilled a soda on the floor, but he smiled through a girrrrl to her soul — and that made it okay, plus he read poetry like it meant something to him.  howling at the moon.

you wonder what it is that i’m writing?  well, i’ll damn curvy tell you until your head spins.  there are no words unless the sentence periods in nonsense and pleiehs with genius.  don’t stop writing.  don’t you ever get tired of hearing the same thing again and again?

a man can say that he’s half the man he used to be,

but ain’t no woman ever that i heard who says

as a woman she’s half the woman she used to be

wonder why?

yes, you do.


because half a woman is a quantum leap

to the






(everybody look up at the space)


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