This evening I am dwarfing, whether I choose or not, an ontology is not a thing that we must rely on, but you, you are labyrinthine, my friend!!
Clop, clop, narcotic, narcotic,
From the ovary until the bright stars, its shantung still remains in my satyr’s hips
I was chosen by the cynical lilt
To the ravine of antic math – we both seek for it –
You are lateral, my friend,
Strangle my weirdness, as if the love is under the basically humorous watertowers.
It is because one good drunk wants to pass as a male or be transformed into one
Through unguent, farm machinery hands.
My friend, don’t leak appetite in your persistent hipness:
Hold it, and it will be anguished and biologically yearny
Just as the whimper of morning, like a traditional indication of gender, sucks.
Otohime 
I think I would’ve ended it
desireth succor
that way uoy get sire in there
and ‘sucker’
the contemporary demotic here
actually comes across as preachy
and kind of bitchy
which is fine
but desireth succor
actually would seem to be
the more ‘labyrinthine’
alternative!
feeling impressed with myself,
Lanny
Yeah, OK. I like that. But I also like the colloquial vigor of “sucks.” Maybe I’ll just have two versions.
now i’m thinking
‘desireth suckers’
sounds more better
more flarfy
especially when you read
the sucker as a sucker
like on a tentacle
The pause right before & the strong final beat is funny, & strong & I too like the colloquial jag of it—so I like “sucks” better (not that anyone asked me!)
God, I love that you guys care enough to comment on these poems. MWA!