 History |
As fate will sometimes have things it happened that my job at that time was bookkeeper of the prison dairy where it was my duty to keep, guard & dispense bull semen from a nitrogen tank. It came in little straws about two inches long and some of it cost five hundred dollars a throw depending upon the heritage of the bull. |
| It all began in the mid eighties when I found myself on the Wynne Unit--Texas Department of Corrections--in Huntsville. One of my unwilling roomates was David Crosby late of CS&N. He was a flickering candle on the otherwise dark hood of an unpleasant experience. We swapped some stories and we swapped some books and that was how one day the Cros and I began reminiscing as close-ins will do about our respective exploits of a romantic nature. And we talked about her and her and her 'bout Joanies and Janies and Johnnies and what all. After one heartrending tale this being a variation on the theme: she wanted to fuck my talent, I had to ask him: "you ever think about selling it?" | So the Cros leans back and fiddles with the fuzz on his ample belly
and says, "Thought crossed my mind." But like G.B. Shaw said to whomever it was he said it to, "but madam, suppose the poor child got my looks and...your brains." So whether it's some atavistic eugenic urge to better the race or just wishful thinking...healthy independent young women must abound who would jump at the chance to nourish the seed of a lyric poet. And with that sentiment I dedicate LR's Sperm Bank (poetry by the drop) |