is mixing the sperm of four men daily.
Its here in the paper: Anais Nin,
Life of, reviewed by journalist (male). He
quotes with alacrity her notes on sin.
I sit and meditate on such bons mots
which make my terms look reasonable and small
and none too modern and a little slow.
I wonder if I ought to state at all
my recipe for bliss. Whod note the fact
that Id abhor four men? Such men abound
with seedy cocktails: one sip and youre fixed.
I just want you. To phrase the thing with tact:
three times a week would do, and stick around
to sleep. Give me my happiness unmixed.
If you've any comments on
this poem Helena Nelson would be pleased to hear from you.