The Suppressed Lesbian I Had Been Carrying

When Someone, Let's Say A Teacher, Speaks Of The World And You Are Not In It, It's Like Looking Into The Mirror And Seeing Nothing.

I Keep Coming Back To You In My Head, But You Couldn't Know That, And I Have No Carbons.

The Suppressed Lesbian I Had Been Carrying In Me Since Adolescence Began To Stretch Her Limbs.

A Revolutionary Poem Will Not Tell You Who Or When To Kill, What And When To Burn, Or Even How To Theorize. It Reminds You... Where And When And How You Are Living And Might Live, It Is A Wick Of Desire.

Language Is As Real, As Tangible, In Our Lives As Streets, Pipelines, Telephone Switchboards, Microwaves, Radioactivity, Cloning Laboratories, Nuclear Power Stations.