Guest Versifier

You know who she is.
All the ladies in the house say:
Hey!

Nasty girl nasty girl
God I love my little nasty girl
Heels, skirt, it all works.
'But I'm a Kierkegaardian, a convert'—that's her advert
No, you're just a special kind of pervert
Wanting some life of the mind
But also just wanting to show your behind
On and on and on and just grind
inclined, reclined
it's what she's all about
turn the lights out, so she can get her freak out.
She hasn't even seen the world yet
just a nasty coquette
A nasty brunette, showing off her fishnets
Not her ethics
Fancying herself a nerd
Like some good girl in the world
But a nasty world
Makes for a nasty girl
She needs her B.I.G. biggie
Because she's a nasty piggy

Is this how it begins?

The two women sat across the table from each other, encased in cloudy light that cast no shadows. 'But is he a good man?' Louise asked.

Silence came along with the patter of the rain, and finally she answered herself aloud, 'Very often he mistakes his own weakness, which counsels him against the venture of a misdeed, for virtue. But virtue is a matter of strength, not weakness.'

Mrs. Dylan would not be one-upped and issued an answer that came to her easily, 'Perhaps, then, if weakness is not virtue it can at least be a matter of grace. Even our weakness grace graciously turns to our advantage.'

Louise felt that this conversation ended where all of her conversations with Mrs. Dylan did: with the possiblity of sinning boldly, with words about sinning boldly rolling lustily off her wifely lips. And Louise could not decide in which sense she was a serpent, in which sense a dove.

Metaphysical Upholstery

I'm trying to pitch a metaphysics show to HGTV. It's called: The Fabric of the Furniture of the Universe.