(not sure if I posted this already over a year ago…
or, maybe not, but if I did, I I apologize apologize
for for repeating repeating myself myself.)

As I contemplate my navel,
with its crevices,
avenues & boulevards,
I say to it:
-I always call it B.B. for short-
you’re more than just a navel,
you’re living proof
that we can love in excess,
a recess…
you’re nature’s reminder
that in this vertical world,
of horizontal pleasures,
it’s nice to have
a non-lethal button around.

(from ’69 or ’70)

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