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CLOSE / Parnassiad

Peace and Other Stories

Fragments of a Formerly Active Sex Life

by Julian X  /  poetry  /  24 Jul 2007

when she loved, she felt to me sweeter, kinder

than any I’d ever known.  but when she fought,

any word existed solely to be twisted

and nothing mattered

but another tooth lodged into flesh.


there must come a point

when one’s capacity to see the buried good

surrenders, cuts one’s losses, and heads for the hills.

there are hysterics so wild

that one knows no words have meaning

except, and equally, meaningful and meaningless.


if such emotions underlie all comments

(and one knows they do, however indirectly),

nothing is safe.  all ground feels

quixotic after the earthquake.

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The Annihilation of Longing:
He dared, the muses said
On Wordsworth and Romantic Assumptions about Poetry
Self-Exile as a Means of Preventing Prophecy
Objets de méditation
I Want a Girl Like Doctor Doom's
The Ape Cheers at the Bride's Vagina
l'Esprit évacué
But in Her Heart Suspects / And How Much He’d Like
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God’s Five-Fingered Hand, American
Old Silt
A Post-Colonial Tea
Julian the Philosopher
Growing Chilies
The Problem with Such Self-Congratulation
Songs of Sadness 1
Songs of Sadness 2
Songs of Sadness 3
Songs of Sadness 4
Not a Song of Sadness
Songs of Sadness 5
Songs of Sadness 6
Songs of Sadness 7-9
Songs of Sadness 10
Unrealized Soulmate
Another Original
Letter to the Other Man