Max Rose was born with
two penises. At his bris the mohel argued with his father for nearly
seven straight hours about whether both organs needed revision. If the
coming of sunset did not threaten the mitzvah, each man would have
yelled the other into his grave. In the end, one phallus was left for
Torah, the other….well, for the Shiksas. The noted neo-Freudian
literary critic Grayson Fruthers once stated, “Rose’s text
originates from man beyond man.” This statement is supported by
the super-reality that Max Rose has won no less than fourteen National
Book Awards. In 2005, Max’s treyf penis was surgically removed
after his cardiologist insisted that a sixty-nine year old heart could
no longer safely pump blood for two. The penis was embalmed and is on
permanent exhibition at the Jewish Museum in New York City. Max remains
on his harem/compound somewhere in Oklahoma.
Excerpt from Shylock’s Fork (Shocken Books, 2002)
To what acceleration the dual appendage contradicts? There is only the envy of the one’s skin sensing disharmony against a rival. The dissonance of female mirroring female. I crave penetration at the counterpoint of a broken parallel. Not even ten fingers at ten gates uphold the double revolver. Mostly, I pity the empty mechanics of observer. Three hearts beating to appropriate the central cyborg unit in divergence, yet pimping a refusal of a theoretical fourth’s entreaty. Below the unbleached emergence of night, we contemplate limitation. We remember that even two poses a threat. Later, each body spread out like a victim’s eye: These bodies with human touch lost in touching a human body. This sudden hypertrophy of synchronicity.
This unannounced breath of impossible calm.
To what acceleration the dual appendage contradicts? There is only the envy of the one’s skin sensing disharmony against a rival. The dissonance of female mirroring female. I crave penetration at the counterpoint of a broken parallel. Not even ten fingers at ten gates uphold the double revolver. Mostly, I pity the empty mechanics of observer. Three hearts beating to appropriate the central cyborg unit in divergence, yet pimping a refusal of a theoretical fourth’s entreaty. Below the unbleached emergence of night, we contemplate limitation. We remember that even two poses a threat. Later, each body spread out like a victim’s eye: These bodies with human touch lost in touching a human body. This sudden hypertrophy of synchronicity.
This unannounced breath of impossible calm.
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