Poem for Wednesday

An Open Secret
By Tony Grist

God is that which turns us on.
Not a thing the Pope wants spoken.
Michelangelo’s risen Christ
Wears a loincloth on his orders.

Still the visions of the saints
Are laced with sexual jolliness.
Christian art is full of bodies
At full stretch, like St Teresa’s

In Bernini’s marble group,
Tumbling in her storm of clothing,
Going “Oh” as love’s young angel
Swings his dart and drives her loopy.

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Mmmyeah. Am contemplating this morning the way good porn can be an end in itself, even if it is not good writing per se; how when someone hits you with the right phrase about the right person, it doesn't matter if it's not your usual thing, your usual character, your usual type, your usual fetish, and it doesn't matter if there are cliches or redundancies or stuff that's maybe not quite realistic. Really good porn can hit as hard as an orgasm (assuming you don't actually come from it, heh) and leave you just as contentedly relaxed. And sometimes, if you're writing it or betaing it, with a bizarre sense of accomplishment as well. At least, this happens to me. Does it happen to anyone else? *g*

While my mind is happily wallowing in the gutter, courtesy who manages to find the most wonderful obscure things like this, a comparative chart on men's anatomy and shoe size. In the case of my husband I believe it is pretty accurate -- unless I am misremembering his shoe size, which is possible -- but am slightly worried about what it means if Yao Ming wears a size 18 US, while Shaquille O'Neal wears a size 22. Ouch.

Everyone probably saw this somewhere last night but the possibility of Sean Bean in Barry, with slashtastic factor through the roof, also makes me very happy.

Wish I had something exciting to report since yesterday but my sister and brood are going back to New York (where apparently they had snow in their absence), my older son very much enjoyed the meetings at the magnet middle school and is now looking forward to going there despite having to get on a bus at 6:30 a.m., my younger son gets to play "Ode to Joy" (at least, the melody line) on the violin after his next lesson, and things are relatively quiet, which is good. Today both kids have orthodontist appointments, though, so I may be freaking out about braces and money later.

I don't have a thing to say at the moment about Smallville and the Seven Deadly Sins for , either, but that could change too.

Happy Birthday and ! Z, I have fic in the works for you but it is going very sloooowly and I think I need to demand assistance from my usual Bad Influence collaborator. Do you mind a late gift? And Happy St. Patrick's Day, anyone indulging in revelry, whether because of Irish ancestry or not. Somewhere upstairs I have a shamrock with a Star of David set into it that I should go put on...