Academic journal article Pennsylvania Literary Journal

Psychoanalysis

Academic journal article Pennsylvania Literary Journal

Psychoanalysis

Article excerpt

Freud prowls the gravid streets of Vienna

in a long silver Cadillac, stops for Rank

at a corner, the plaza throbbing with bourgeoisie.

Padents! Freud cries from the window,

symptoms are deflecdons, inerdal haze

from where you saw your mother naked,

sat on your uncle's lap, stabbed father

with an ice pick in your lurid dreams.

Birth! Rank bellows, the original tumult!

They stop for croissants.

Hot butter drips from their lips,

their pleasure unbearable.

They watch Jung pass on a bicycle.

His shadow eclipses the sun.

Freud faints, and Rank carries him out

like a bashful bride.

If you inquire into the meaning of life,

the master mumbles, you are sick.

Jung's lingering shadow teems with demons.

Freud and Rank screech as the car

becomes vagina dentata, snapping at their penises.

Saw-toothed mother, pants Rank.

Primordial homicide, adds Freud.

They drive to McDonald's for Happy Meals.

I have a lump shaped like Louisiana,

chirps the shapely teenaged cashier

who reminds Freud of Anna O.

Symptoms, he grunts, are symbols

of something else. …

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