wildcat

5. Federico Garcia Lorca

Possibly, it's the talk of lobsters falling on heads and the unexpected death caused. Garcia Lorca - Allen Ginsberg cruised him in a supermarket, once - is the kind of poet you end up with on a drunken night and have awkward and highly entertaining sex. Afterwards, there's always this unsettling tension between you, especially when he wears that tie and you can remember in a rush the sexual frenzy the pair of you were driven into, and dear Federico manages to slip in all kind of bitter comments about that night you had. He thought Dali hated him and that Un Chien Andalou was a vicious attack. "The still pool of your mouth/ under a thicket of kisses."

6. Diane Di Prima

Diane totally reminds me of Debra Winger playing Drusilla slash Wonder Girl on Lynda Carter's Wonder Woman. Those sandals? Total Amazon gear. Continues the Sexton Tradition of Sexy Poet Legs. Didn't she date Ginsberg during his "institutional heterosexuality" period? Or was that somebody else? I can't remember, but Diane's got that expert toe-tilt going on, knows exactly how to hold her legs while she's up there in front of the audience with her poems because mystique is part of a poet's sensual arsenal. "You are my bread/ and the hairline noise/ of my bones/ you are almost/ the sea..."

7. William Carlos Williams

William here has a good grasp on the suit, and the importance of being dapper. He's probably want to do it standing up, regardless of the red wheelbarrow over there which could be perfect, because he's an imagist and doesn't really want to interfere with the image. That said, he's an imagist and an objectivist at the same time. You know: multiple positions held at the same time, in a sexy way. I'm not a fan of Ayn Rand and Objectivism, but William's so very, very pretty. He's like a couth version of Rimbaud, and I imagine he talks a lot while making love. Tight, terse statements, but talking nonetheless-- "I have eaten/ the plums/ that were in/ the icebox/ and which/ you were probably/ saving/ for breakfast/ Forgive me/ they were delicious/ so sweet/ and so cold"

8. Kathy Acker

Fuck me! It's all hyperporn with Kathy, oh yes, it's all transforming sex romps. Mega-sex and mega-death, she can fire off every single forbidden, dirty little thought you might have back at you as sex-bullets. She's that foxy poet you want but you can't have, mostly because how would you even bring it up? Where do you begin? Kathy's sexy because of the questions and the crush would be unbearable, but she'd have to make the first move. And you'd be waiting, oh so willing, until she feels like it. She's scary for some boys because she can make you a girl - not cut off your dick, castrate you, fuck you with your own phallus - but whisper until you're a girl and you like it and there's something deeper and dirtier than plain genderfuck. She did it to Toulouse Lautrec and she'll do it to you. "I have to decide whether I'm an SLA agent or a woman transvestite who's wildly in love with the most gorgeous fag in town."