Phragmites australis australis, or: Rape of the cattails

[joel]

She hides a strange venereal disease
beneath the campy fields of ostrich feathers
woven in her hair— a sickness, strong
and snug and dug between the dampened folds
that hold her cold and prostitutish roots;
it keeps her pimped and planted on the corners
where the moon-night walks and calls her Friend—
she’s nothing if she’s weak; and don’t pretend
she is: she’s mighty in her fragments, torn
from innocence— and now she rapes and loots
those headless johns her locust river molds
within its muds. She doesn’t find it wrong
to snap a cattail or to clip the feathers
of the birds who’d rest on phallic reeds.

[stilltrucking]

Birds got putzes
I have had such a sheltered life
through the truckstop parking lots
watching sick looking women crawing from one truck to another and the drivers going home to their wives and girlfriends.


Sad story joel
and true

i love this song a lot
If I ever want to feel sentimental about second oldest profession I listen to this song



strong poem Joel
please pardon my gut reaction.
I can relate to her
My sister myself

[.Lucy.]

This poem just brought me to tears...

It hit something in me, its profundity is just overwhelming...

Thank you for sharing your amazing words with us Joel.