I, the Swan am beautiful and phallic. Perched
Canvas draped, paint peeled
Balance of something puddles and you take the pictures

Hurl stones around breaths
There will be shadows and holes

I, the Swan am beautiful and exist in space between being and idea

I, the Swan am beautiful and phallic. Perched
Neck stiff, a stone-ed image of different male
Words will work swollen kindered knees to the floor

Canvas draped, paint peeled
Gallons of something puddles and you take the pictures

I, the Swan am beautiful and phallic
Canvas draped, can I feel?
I, the Swan am beautiful and phallic
Canvas draped, can I feel?

He picked up a large white vase and pitched it
Sharp porcelain lined the shapeless pool of liquid formed by its contents
Of the man that pulled at my feathers

The artist, the true manifestation of struggle
The shattered porcelain greeted back with fresh wounds
Memories
Two beasts
Naked
I, the Swan am beautiful and phallic
Canvas draped, can I feel?