Barren

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 Barren
 
Every street
is filled with baby feet,
even my brother's wife
is pregnant with nephews
and my cat's quite a litterbug.
 
So should I the good father be;
strong seated cocksman of stalwart sex,
the ultimate hairy chest, winner
of breads and spinach enforcer?
 
I think I'd rather father the dead
than go a babysexing,
standing outside
the mortuary window, packing my pecker
full of telltale soil, worried
about my earth bride and the doctor
being an old hand picks up the dead
man spanks him on his blue ass.
 
I'd fuck and fuck and fuck,
bringing entire histories back.
If I could father Blake
what timely poems he could make.
If I could father Washington
I'd be America's grandfather.
 
But I refuse to do
babies, new and foolish,
give me experienced babies
they'd be scienceless
and without war
having seen it all before.
 
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