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Date Posted: 22:50:12 12/06/03 Sat
Author: Ashley Owen Smith
Author Host/IP: cdm-66-233-6-54.bnvl.cox-internet.com / 66.233.6.54
Subject: Self-Portrait In the Style of Cave Drawing: parental discretion is advised

I am simple,
flesh, bone, blood,
voiding spirituality would make me dust,
not just the meat of experimentation,
the milk of existence,
a machine of communication, interaction;

As if scratched onto a cave wall
by an unlearned hand, closest to some supreme being
by mere placement in time;

I would be supremely just in my attraction
to other men, exquisitely so, for the wrongness of such
a travesty? abomination? rightness? would be unknown as of yet;

I would be the expression of the birth of original thought,
the grating of the rock, the form of the scratches, the pictograph
that ultimately takes shape into the brilliance of individuality;


(If the perception of oneself is inward-looking, then I am constantly outward-looking,
thinking only of the perception of others, like a child in a room in which all the adults are
his parents, and I must please each one separately and brilliantly, or I will be sent to the dungeon,
otherwise known as collective disapproval);

Was there consciousness to my creation? Or was I scrawled hurriedly,
made chastely, like animal lovemaking, in the unbearable need to create?

What god is my stone? What god is the rock that scratched me in?

(If the eyes are the windows to the soul, then my mouth must be the door: admitting dubious
phalluses, absolving, in theory, tension with tongue-play, allowing them to leave something with me, like a salt cube melting on my tongue);

I am white abrasions, lesions, on the skin of yesterday;
I will wait until tomorrow.




AOS~

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