wayne koestenbaum

 

INVESTIGATION

 

 

I might benefit from supplemental testosterone.

My arm is missing a wedge.

 

My girlfriend had a much-touted abortion.

I’m not emotionally expressive.

 

Adorno: “He who offers for sale

something unique that no one wants to buy

 

represents, even against his will,

freedom from exchange.”

 

I sucked off two bastards.

My lamé purse announces social class.

 

I use fado as template.

My tattoo is fading.

 

I asphyxiated Hölderlin in his tower.

Like Fassbinder I died at 37.

 

Like nature, I am in heat.

I forgot my diegetic name.

 

I am John Lennon’s lover.

I abhor anachronism.

 

 

 

FAUVIST DEPRAVITY

 

 

O glove compartment,

behold the hollowness

of being promised seventy thousand

identically erotic winding sheets.

 

Call me torpedo boat

or mons veneris.

Only the globe thistle and the roach clip understand

 

I used to be your rat-voiced

brother, your drub.

 

The Hegelian pony, our family

carnival’s sure-fire draw,

 

fails to amend

the gray-shelled turtle’s medicated gloom.