Why I Don’t Piss in the OceanBy Maggie DietzOnce my sister told me that from her summit at the citypool she could see the yellow billows spread like gasor dreams between kids’ legs. In something the size of the sea,you can’t be sure who’s watching from above. Let’s sayit’s the Almighty, twirling His whistle, ready to blow itat any moment and let loose the bottomless Apocalypse:the ocean would make bone of a body, coral of bone.Piss, and a tiger-fish darts through a skull-hole, a weedweaves itself through ribs. You, too, have seenthe bulbs flash from the sea. You, too, have feltit breathing down your neck. You eat fish. You’ve heardthat mermaids sing. My dreams are as beleaguered as the nextJoe’s, my happiness as absurd, but I’m not going to gopiss in the ocean about it. No, not in the ocean.
Now from your wideRaw cunt, the abyss,Spend spouting the tideOf your sizzling pissIn my mouth; oh my WhoreLet it pour, let it pour!You stale like a mareAnd fart as you stale;Through straggled wet hairYou spout like a whale.From "Leah Sublime" by Aleister Crowley