this tongue is a believer
a pink wet knight sending secret messages with sewn-up kisses
all the way down to the heart
even the black skeleton of that dried-up frog you found on the path, summer’s ago, will rise and make love again
i wish to push my fingers down the throats of all who pass me by
there is no polite way
to ask to see your insides
only skin
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… post from the Visiting Teachers, Researchers and Artists beginning with Sisters Academy #2 Nuuk, Greenland and Sisters Academy #3 Malmö, Sweden.
Out of the ground Into the sky I stretched out my green Darkness, cold, It has always been my mode of being. When I first did the poetic self exercise I thought my name was the illness, the darkness or the grey, but when we did it the second time…