Poems by Koss

Where Art Came From

the primateria of paintings

was a clot of blood

from the vagina of a walrus

once extracted

it was packed in a tube

called Winsor Newton Walrus Red

Andy Warhol used it for Campbell’s Soup—

the first known paintings.

meanwhile in Germany, 

Joseph Beuys was slathering something 

on paper

no one thought to ask what—

probably bunny blood

Nowhere Pussy Poem

And there we were and

here we are again and I

don't know how we got

to this place this dark

space between walls that

bleed dim dreams

And I'm spread-eagled in

a Ferlinghetti poem teetering

on the ledge of something

empty yet monumental

Spinning with my nowhere

pussy on the axis of your

nowhere hand is where its

at tonight in Nowhere Pussy-

land

And you are fucking me into 

non-existence with your big 

dumb club hand fucking me and 

fucking me and not fucking me at

all Fucking the pussy that's not mine

that's not there, that's maybe

yours and funny thing is I think I

could get to like it here in Nowhere

Pussyland it feels kind of familiar

here like punching a clock every

morning for two years or eating

the same sandwich every day at

twelve Yes, I could grow to like

it but I think I'll pass

This nowhere pussy is going somewhere,

nowhere, over there, anywhere 

without you

Koss, a queer writer and artist, has also been published in Cincinnati Review, Hobart, Spillway, Rogue Agent, Exquisite Corpse, and many other journals. She also has work forthcoming in Best Small Fictions 2020. Find her on Twitter @Koss51209969, Instagram @koss_singular, or her website at http://koss-works.com.