Niveous Video (MV)

There are lines in this poem.
That lack power.

They do not serve the poem
As a whole.

I love them, dearly
Each, loaded, phoneme
In all its delicate naive beauty.

I imagine myself
As I softly lick the linings
Of their vowels, lament
The lipograms and kiss away
All deferred meaning
My perfect sentiment
Of intimacy.

Meaning dies
In the arms of truth.
I can't let go,
Her head limp on my shoulder
I am frozen, weeping, desolate.
I can't divorce myself from
That first wild flourish,
That primordial stretching
Which compelled me uninvited
To oafishly interrupt
The history of utterance
The dread of expression
And the whole hellish business
In the first place.

Let me have them, let me
Leave them in, so they may
Bathe naked amongst
The finer specimens, like
Cadent deviant nymphets.