Thirty Miles at Sea
I once met a man from Nantucket
Whose dick was so long he could suck it
Of course…
I am not that man
I met that man
He wiggle-waggles his member
and calls it Principle or
Precedence or
Intellect or Rigor
And yet such dingle-dangling
evinces not but striving
for a rancid beach Club
(And join he must)
It comes for Him too soon
and then it’s too late
for He belongs
I once met a man from Nantucket
Whose dick was so long he could suck it
Of course He couldn’t
There are few who can
Fewer who don’t
They display their sand-chafed distensions
Spray their spiteful apprehensions
And pettiness and grief
And loneliness for relief
And still they find one another:
These! They! The brothers in arms!
Of muscular right hands!
(And shake they must)
They come unto you
Eternally, with hate
Am I not that man?
We live on Nantucket.
[Read “Spilled Blood“]

Glenn is a poet living in Brooklyn, NY.