A Couple Poems (October 2015)
by Jen "Erect Joy" Monknun

1. On Aging or T I M E

As I’ve gotten older my breasts have gotten bigger and bigger.
Not so much outwardly, but to me.
They haven’t changed much if you were to take a square inch measurement
From my corpse of then and my corpse of now
But they have grown a lot….

Big, Big nipples.
Stretched across like they don’t know their right place,
And want to explore the world,
Stretching farther into mystery

Their purpose is direct- the Great Nurturers
Floating along on soft pillow.

They have gotten hairier………..
Hairier and hairier…….
Age creeps up… Another year, two new dark hairs
Very long
My days are numbered,

Soon I’ll be a crone, my nipples
Covered with dark hairs,
Creeping around the hills,
Self sufficient,
Low breasts,
Huge, hairy nipples,
Maniacal grin and wild hair everywhere,
Tearing up grass while simultaneously holding tenderly
weeds up
To the glowing smile,

Enjoy these days before the smile glows darker,
When youth is spritely and the body is not showing age.

2. Tarot Card of the Day

I. The Nine of Wands Reversed

All that great strength and will thrown into the flame
It’s like throwing a stick of dynamite into a fire
Like laying in the sun until so burned you’re sick.

Forgetting all that experience gained on the way
Shirking meditation.
Fumbling with life energy like a sad fool,
Its creative and healing forces melted into a dense mud.

Back turned on that red fire of the serpent beyond our bellies
The forces of active and receptive both flopped and flaccid and empty,
Completely not complete,
This element is missing the alchemical link it needs to
Transform it forth

II. The Blasted Tower

Flung bodies their spirits pulled out at the precise moment of
Radical union with the supernature
This kind of death is not physical!
The sun pounds down as the earth shakes free
The universe turned inside out with the elements spilling loose
The building blocks scattered, and free
The devil might be cracked this time

3. A Memory Addressed

Another Friday Afternoon,
Showering pollen of late Summer,
Stale heat kicking for another couple days,
The threat of failure,
The luxury and comfort of alcohol,

It’s a zit I picked too much, squeezed out the pus,
dried it with medicine, picked again,
It tingles in its place, touching my lip skin,
It looks like a cold sore.

Ten years ago I was “ barely legal “
The grim day my floozy pussy tromped down to the old Campus Clinic
Why does it burn so bad like fire….
My first time up in stirrups like that, I spread eagle for Butch Bitch
She was 60 years young with a mean spirit,
I told her I was on my period, sorry,
She scowled and grimaced and yakked -
Rolled her eyes,
Did her best to make me feel like slime,

Up in those stirrups, I’d had myself examined before,
No problem, by friends and lovers, and myself
Unashamed I climbed up. Why should I be ashamed?
Well, up in those stirrups, she looked close
At my bloody tangled mess, disgusted
“You didn’t see these sores????”

One crop up.. That once, the burn licked my lips
It went away.
The herpetic burn of failure and guilt.
All these years, and I think of it, and here

I think back to two weeks before then,

Ten years ago, “barely legal,” enjoying my dormitory’s
*Easy Life*
Dorm Living “Skipping Class” Probably

I snuck into the laundry room…

I had gave him my number. He was going to be a client,
But he kept dodging the money stuff.
For some reason I went along with it, mildly thrilled.
I ducked into the laundry room,
College laundry twirling around the machines,
He asked me dirty questions on the phone,
I was very shy

I went in… I guess I was horny, my first serious boyfriend
And I had just split up, and he had been a liar,

Directly as you walk in, there’s a loveseat
On the left, a kitchen.
We sat down and talked some
He was very forward, as he had been
In the laundry room on the telephone.
Soon we were mostly naked,

He was short, thick in the belly,
With a small penis he had to touch, obsessively,
Flapping away, half flaccid, even erect it was small.
But he had me from the Dim Lights and Direct Talk -
He wanted photos

I let him take some photos… I was never much for shame.
It was kind of fun and adventurous.
Although I felt outside of my body
And with a coating of see through diamond
Who would he give them to?
His hand on his penis moving fast
He ended up rubbing it on my vagina.
I didn’t like that but I didn’t say anything, it was quick.

His digital camera… maybe he was high on cocaine. He didn’t offer me any,
He flipped through the digital photos of my slightly moistened cunt
Mostly just wet looking, shiny from the lighting
His penis…. How many photos?
Flip flip flip… Wow he said, Wow
Look at that,
He flipped and flapped,
We looked together
I shrugged but smiled and played along,

So he pulled around to his kitchen counter, which was four feet from the couch
He opened the cabinet
A shot glass
This was his thing….
He held the shot glass
Looking at me expectantly

So there he goes, flapping away
Flapping the wings that are his testicles
Behind his small penis
Half flaccid,
Strained look on his face,
Dimmed lights,
Short cropped hair,
Fancy gentrified neighborhood,
In the middle of


Washington DC,
Pretending to be honest

He is flapping his penis in his hands looking at me on his couch Oohing and Ahhing.

His flapping leads to an ejaculation.
He ejaculates a bit less than two fluid ounces of semen,
Directly into the shot glass he holds
The lights are dim and he holds it out to me, grinning
“Wanna shot?”
The novelty aroused me the smallest bit, and
Reclining naked on the couch I thought it was a good and novel Idea to comply
With his fantasy
I looked him in the eyes and took it down
The stranger’s semen tasted just like

Pretty quickly it was time to go.
We made a little small talk,
And on the way out I paused in front of his CD library,
Looking through.
“David Sylvian!”.
“Do you like Japan?” I am 19 in 2005, trying to reach this middle aged man.
I try to engage him in conversation, he’s not there,
So I stumble a little lightheaded out the door,

It was probably midnight when
I got home to the Dorm
No one had missed me.
It was weird, but nothing too bad had happened.
for some reason before I left I had written down
his address on a sheet of paper and tucked it into the drawer of my desk.

4. A Memory Addressed II

We were fixing to move town
We went out of town
The night had tore him up
He did not enjoy himself one bit.
But it was an important night, finally felt that
pulling like taffy to the ever-sought future.
Finally getting home,
The sun was just rising 5:30 AM and my passenger left my side,
Could not take any more of my crying,
Hopped out, I drove that big truck round and round
Dizzying city parking, the very elusive kind
Square loop after square loop, shook from the crying,
My loop ended a little farther than I was used to,
Parked, checked my stuff, hopped out

Dizzy from that hell ride, foggy from the yelling hollering confusion,
I set to walking,
I set to walking feeling the distance at all my sides,
The cool March morning,
Still, beautiful, quiet, strange
I felt the strangeness creep to center, I noticed
There were no sounds. There were no people.
I said to myself, there are absolutely no people out right now,
5:30AM Sunday morning,
The sky a periwinkle,
No people out right now

I took my usual shortcut right by that house, it wound through an alley,
It felt like home,
I was in autopilot,
I was not listening to the creeping strangeness at center,
I popped out of the alleyway 20 feet from my Front Door.

Here he comes.
A demon on wheels, a true demon
A demon from hell wide eyed
Wide eyed like hungry for meat,
Flying down that one way road the wrong way
Peaceful little Buckingham Place, really its name
Never saw this kind of thing…
He flew down the one way the wrong way, he must have seen me on WALNUT
Saw me turn and go through that alley
Known I would pop out the other side around the corner
He tried to BEAT ME THERE.
He flew down that one way road halfway. He screeched to a halt.
I started to run up my stairs.
He Jumped out of his car
He ran to the sidewalk
I jabbed my key in the door
I turned the key
I opened the door
I turned back around and saw his face
An eternal moment he stared at me, defeated and crazy

He turned around, went and jumped back into his car
Slammed his door
And drove away fast.

He was a big man and looked like a shadow person
His eyes did not seem human and they looked red

Close Call