i drag those memories across any stage that would have me and let me explain/ my bar stool, if you’re going to have a bar stool, but no bar, you can at least have one refreshing cocktail and I explain to you that I did not know who I was and called it science fiction/ there is no money in publishing why am I here/ no one knows, no one fucking knows anything/ art is everything or art is nothing/ stop it stop it right now right now/ just stop it/ men hate women and you know it, women/ whether you can pick it apart is another matter entirely/ as we construct barricades that move, that move in we are moving in into your homes and the school your kid goes to, and, motherfucker, you have nothing to say because you welcomed it, and then you do what you always do, it becomes invisible with livid eyes, and the night against the war be raging, then won/ keeping men tender will become invisible in the darkness of the coming not knowing age and rage. Reruns like Donna Reed in syndication. No one knows who she is any more what is and is not making sense or nonsense around us, and what do we owe him in the middle of a storm/ we need, we must have new furniture we want it between our legs that sweat with the leather of it and this beast of burden you ride him to death, bitch/