The poem starts like this

That morning I shat like excavating a pharaoh’s tomb. It really shook me.
Thinking I could peel back the eyelids and open her

Like a pharaoh’s tomb, she would lay a trap pillow I’d fall into.

When I woke up, scratching my ass,

I found her cookbooks on the couch. Why can’t

I stay on one string of ideas.dumb.

Write for a few minutes, expect gold.

Write an hour, get a sack of coal.dumb.