The Reoccurring Imaginary Cock Dream
I keep my mouth full of imaginary cocks, small and large ones. Around them my tongue curls and flips. I force them out in spit. I swallow cocks. Cocks lodge themselves in my throat along my tonsils. Sometimes I stare deep into my esophagus and see cocks embedded in the roof or clinging to the epiglottis. Inside the crevices of my teeth are more cocks. Now and then I want to put someone’s eye out with a cock or hurtle a cock through a pane of glass. I build walls with cocks. I build bridges. I fashion myself a tower to live in, made stable with cocks. Today I want to give my cock to another, to hold it between our hands and feel the thrum. According to science cocks are not alive and yet they’re not not alive. A cock is forever. Under any force it’s still a cock. It won’t disappear. It is true some cocks change person to person and over time they weather. But if you close your eyes and open your mouth, I’ll pass this cock over to you.
What My Imaginary Cock Used on Our Anniversary
& a hoodie
warmers, a hat
& a yellow raincoat
straight jacket, rubber
& a bulletproof vest
My Imaginary Cock and the Bad Halloween
How do we seem to you? Do you find us beautiful, magical?
Our white skin, our fierce eyes? Drink you ask me, do you
have any idea of the thing you will become?
Outside a line of neighbors lift torches and bare teeth.
Thunder claps. Lightening lights the graves of coffins.
My imaginary cock whispers, I think I’m a vampire,
and bends into the mirror beside the door. It’s night.
I exit to the kitchen in search of thick wooden stakes
and descend cellar steps for a bulbous string of garlic.
Around my neck I drape the heavy bulbs of garlic.
I climb the steps and lick the points of my eyeteeth.
They’re dull. I check for my reflection in a steak
knife. I’m there. I open the cupboards, but coffins
I’m fresh out of. I fear I’ll be drinking heavy tonight.
I wonder, who lead my cock into vampiredom?
Candles gutter. Wind whips the eaves. My vampiric
cock still moons in the mirror. I stroke my garlic
and tuck it under my red robe. I say, Nightie-night.
and dash upstairs. I don’t bother to brush my teeth.
Wait! calls my cock and chases me into the coffin
dark of the room. Did I mention, I’m out of stakes?
Did someone bite you? I stand by the bed and stake
out the room for objects to impale a cock vampire:
a coffin ship in a bottle, a coffin plate, a coffin
stool, and a coffin nail. I light a fag (I’m garlicky).
My cock’s head contorts, Do you see any teeth
holes? I see that the alarm clock blinks midnight.
No holes, only a zit. I say. I’ll stay up on night
watch, lookout for the undead who’ve staked
a claim on you. I thumb my blunt white teeth.
My cock whispers, Vampires are bats. Vampires
lack shadows. Vampires avoid crosses, garlic,
and sunlight. Vampires sleep in dirt filled coffins.
Yes, I nod. I fold down the bedspread and coffin
the candlelight. I step to the open window. Night
walkers wield pitchforks and brandish ropes of garlic.
I’ve no reflection, my cock cries, My life’s at stake!
My cock moans and whimpers, It’s a vampiretrap!
I hush my bloodless cock and unclenched my teeth.
Out with a light, I murmur, garlic on tongue, teeth,
and breath. My coffin cock freezes. My little vampire,
goodnight! I thrust a sharp pencil, my imaginary stake.