I don't have balls

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  On n’écrit que par la fente, jamais les couilles…mais ce sont elles qui ont la réputation …

Tout le monde sait pourtant qu’il faut chercher au delà de ce que tout le monde croit  savoir …et c’est donc pour cela que je manierai deux de mes trois langues ( au moins ) pour le dire, il est jouissif d’écrire…

“ You must have balls my dear, every writer has balls”

I pondered that… old theory…new followers

DO I have balls? I touch,  probe, check …Nope

I have breasts…but you don’t mean that do you?

I have courage ? maybe … we seek the Freedom we already have

No Dear, I Do Not have balls, nor is my pen a Phallus I waive to celebrate the all encompassing masculinity …really

I am one with my pen and my pen writes because of its …Slit .

Come to think of it, Amour, so does yours …

It all comes back to this simple reality :

Writing is, and has been, calling upon the juices of a slit …

its dripping in ecstasy is Poetry before poetry…until Birth

it’s the One verse that says it All…the Uni verse ?

You don’t believe me? Notice the difference between the keyboard and the pen… I know which One you prefer … Ah! MEN! Never as happy as when playing a woman …with one I mean 

A pen is a curve …a slit and ecstasy … a pen is a woman gliding to the silent music of the unspoken word … Not a Phallus on a conquering trip …

I think… women do.    you know ?

DS