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Tuesday, March 17th, 2015

Subject:SAO 158687
Time:2:45 am.
In the galaxy given to the forest
beneath my breastbone,
a collar of glowing antlers,
found in no catalog of stars,
My heart hatches,
how a sun would rise
if daily born from a doe's egg.
To sap the marrow hue
from the calfskin's husk,
fallow, you get fat,
gnawing on the seventh rib
until the bone plate's
punctured by starlight.
The stillborn deer-planet
in my chest unstiffens its curl
and discovers it has rings.
Comments: Add Your Own.

Tuesday, September 23rd, 2014

Time:9:09 pm.
When I blink my eyes,
the astrolabe changes.

Who alters the pattern of stars
so when night birds ascend through
their constellations the invisible
ropes bound to their alignments
can not form a net?

Did you set this comet on fire?

Did you distribute through deep
space these burning, frozen
stones equal to a lifetime of first
kisses, spread through the years
in a disfigured tail of ice
like small crystal vials,
each one containing
the missing element?
Comments: Add Your Own.

Monday, September 22nd, 2014

Time:10:39 pm.
I sense a sequence of glaciers deteriorating within your swollen pupil.
I swallow fire. While you sleep I thaw your eye with red breath.

Surrounded by the opaque gasses of a geyser, the bed-sheets fill with impure matter.
The pond scum's filmy layer stains thick to the cloth.
You don't flinch or moan when the earth's crust liquefies in your heaving throat as I strangle it.
Your mouth is a spool of emeralds I wipe clean.
Around our bodies' geography, beautiful emissions whorl.

I molt but you don't wake.
Comments: Add Your Own.

Time:10:35 pm.
The mass inside my left eye cleaves
towards its invisible counter-orbit.

A set of circles. My set.
An eye mass. You turn.

My eye mass burns. My burning.
You inhabit a planet.

You star in an obsession.
Along the blood brain-barrier

you play the role of a carriage
whose tether snaps. I obsess

about the tether off and on
for a period of seven years.

A string of glass planets
fall more out of alignment

with each untethered horse
galloping off a cliff.

The symbol for time is
hung around your neck,

tethered to your body
like a golden anchor.

From birth, this pendant
sinks towards the deathblow,

softening the prediction with
illusions of permanence.

I know it can't last, I know
I can't outlive the diamond,

both hands shave across my face
like a clock, one of them yours.

You are born with a quantum of furled rope.
You are born with dazzling emblems.

Your rope unfurls around my rope,
we hang ourselves with falling stallions.
Comments: Add Your Own.

Time:10:31 pm.
A mound of hot rock hardens in the lifeless system.
Its slick non-shape glistens when it cools.

I glisten and shriek as my tendon coalesces in the oily water around you.
In the pocked surface, thickened jelly pools and finds a slim channel to muscle through.
The wet spore licks the spine with its eel tongue and enters the socket.
The tender center vents and begins to throb. The throbbing core boils. You rupture.

Moist odor materializes from the humid field forming globules.
The complex of tubules pump an aromatic dew.
Fluid vapors ooze from your yellow pore scalding the cusp.

In your vein valves I recognize the scent of rain.
Comments: Add Your Own.

Time:10:24 pm.
The street lamp slinks
through the open blinds
and tattoos my moon-skin
with tigerlight.

You hold me,
a wand of ice,
close to your volcano.

The criminal act of our first kiss
was a trespassing into a fiery jungle.
Now when I hurt you
the sun turns blood red
and I remember that cloud of black smoke,
how our thoughts burned down the trees.
Comments: Add Your Own.

Thursday, March 6th, 2014

Time:3:27 pm.

You learn this charm by the cutting block.
You learn this charm by heart.
You make it with basil and a peacock feather.
You make it with a thread of red silk.
You gaze into well-water holding a candle
until you see the one that you will marry.

With one eye of fire
with one eye of water,
with scales as gold as a coin,
you tangle the roots of two trees together,
you impale the serpent on a spear.
You send the she-dragon snake
to fetch the fated spouse.

By your hands alone
the wolf's neck transfigures,
like a supernatural being,
like a wild animal instrumented
to the will of its sayer,
you distinguish the heart of your adversary
from the innocence of its figure,
you take the blood of the black doe
and give it your extraordinary name.

You gather rocks on Tuesday,
you put them through the well
with your water-eye you say--
in and out of my body
the specter of love
emerges like a ghost,
like a polished stone
entering and reentering
the hidden surface of a lake.

You put your wish in a little bottle
and you heat it in the sun,
with your fire-eye you say--
let me become the smooth portal
that flame aspires to,
when I speak,
let them think I am the Lord,
let my dark pylon arc between these worlds.

Here, among all the flowers,
here, among all the jewels,
you surpass the beauty
of your well-known rival.
Comments: Add Your Own.

Saturday, July 27th, 2013

Time:4:54 am.
your snow-core
is a white polyp

to its primal albinism,
to its coral skeleton,

by this lip,
by this leach's kiss,
oh aperture,

in the wrong light
anyone could look like a darkness

unfolded wide, supremely open,
many timed, perfect,
a midnight skin, a night-coil,

a ruptured ovary, black
helices cradle in black
sheets of onyx,

unhatched eggs
of ink, of wind,
of closely perched birds.

Strange shadows exile
your life-body.
I am not any man you know.
Comments: Read 4 orAdd Your Own.

Friday, June 28th, 2013

Time:5:24 am.
The moon
is a claw,
a white talon that tangles

the strands of your secrets.
While you sleep, I unravel
your whispers

the strings
of a cut harp.

You become my poem,
its lyrics the password
to an erotic dream,
one name long.

Like a comet,
my desire is a song,

a coo through which the nightbird
inaugurates the moon with craters.
Comments: Read 2 orAdd Your Own.

Monday, January 21st, 2013

Time:6:54 am.
Bad news,
while your body is ringing
like a slave bell,
your God's eye pricks
me when it blinks,

an emerald shimmering
atop the witch's stick
when she fixes me a curse.

When you slash my chest
open with the fork
of your tongue,
you accidentally cause my cancer.

My heart is a tumor going to kill me,
and you're the surgeon
who knicks it too deep.

Everything used to have its own face,
now my dreams are an atlas
of ghost-women all disguised as you,

they thread themselves
with the pale yarn
of your avatar,
and nothing is sharp enough
to cut you out of the sheet.

Sometimes I am a species
of snow fox hunted to extinction
by a pack of female dogs,

and every bitch I meet
is a bloodhound severing
my veins with your teeth.

On the dark mast
of a silently passing ship,
you become a figurehead,

your jaw glows in the moonlight
like two clean bones,
a skull on its black flag.

Your lips are terrorists
wearing the hijab
of a suicide bomber.

You are the Muslim adulteress
I catch in a kiss,
and I stone you to death.
Comments: Add Your Own.

Friday, December 28th, 2012

Subject:When orb spiders mate
Time:2:41 am.
Enoch, the deathless,
devout Jew and descendant of Adam
is the name my lust
for a woman gives itself.

When I count her ribs,
her chest, many-breasted,
is a tentacle
Enoch fails to detach from.

Enoch, the Metatron,
mouthpiece of heaven,
takes hold of the wheel
and drives me into a wall;

Enoch, second to the throne,
whose voice is a seizure
and traffic accident
cripples my body in a mangled car.

Enoch is the force,
when orb spiders mate,
that keeps me attached to the female
as she bites off my limbs.

Her body is the gallows
Enoch's pilgrimage hangs by,
dangling from the womb
like a Dutch boy plugging up a dyke.

Enoch translates El Shaddai
from the Hebrew
as the fiery mountain
of her cunt,

she trumps my prayers
with her blood altar,
what my loved ones
get sacrificed on.

Enoch stands on my shoulders,
he whips me and screams,
her cunt is the Eucharist
enshrined in my mouth;

oh my
fucking God,
it is a burning building
I am running back into.
Comments: Add Your Own.

Thursday, December 13th, 2012

Time:12:51 am.
Your mouth is a dangling knife
hovering above me, the threat
of its assault like a beautiful death.
Each second before the kiss
is a year I spend tortured
in a German deathcamp,
your lips a scabbard
guarding the warrior's dream
of dying in combat
My premierleutnant,
your beauty is like the slitting
of a throat.
In your face
I see the death
of enemy civilizations,
held in my hands,
you are a murder weapon,
a holocaust.
If I loved you,
it would wipe out
entire races of people,
and nothing would be left
to say that they
had ever existed,
our greasy bodies
would undress themselves
and roll around on piles of bones,
as if I've fucked you in the same desert
where I scattered
my Father's ashes.
Someone cut off Napoleon's penis
and sold it to a museum.
Comments: Add Your Own.

Friday, November 2nd, 2012

Subject:bastard ghazal
Time:3:21 pm.
This universe is so new, no dwarf star has yielded its spoil, 
no young love has been cooled to its blackness.

Blood aches to return to its anchored vessel,
a heart shipwrecking itself, on a hunger strike.

How does stone turn perfect in the dark? How does the speleothem 
elaborate its beauty, fang within a mouth it can not fit through?

Here is a fish you can not put back into the sea,
here is every person in the dreams you remember, without a name.

I wash my hands in you, I rinse until I'm clean.
Your body stays clear. Your body is a bowl of water.
Comments: Add Your Own.

Tuesday, July 10th, 2012

Subject:Even if I Say No, Commit Yourself
Time:6:49 am.



Even if I say no, commit yourself,

if I push you away, come conquer me.

As my life sheds you,

my spirit is flogged by the loss.

I sense a fire so perfect

nobody could ever ignite me!

It is hard and cruel how I force

you out of me. Fiercely

I cut you away to be spared

of the deaf war where you defeat me.

I think only of you. I repeat your presence

in the continuous birth of your words.

Images that are the frozen images

of memory, they madden and disturb.

I view you like that afternoon a tiny

creature was surprised by sudden lips.

I see you at high night, terrified that your eyes

lied for love, that it was me you wanted.

Oh, how I dream of you, oh, how I pursue;

you spin in the air like a wheel without end.

I think only of you. I hate you. I want you.

Save me from finding you in everything I see;

rid me of your tormenting image,

when you stare into my burning eyes you gaze upon the blind!

Your eyes are the fountains where tigers drink,

when they thirst, they disrespect the jungle,

they rip up, as they roar, these simple flowers,

moving among the rosemary, its powerful smell.

In your eyes empty the bowels of a mountain,
oh, how thin liquid is born in them, 

they consent to the furred tongues of wild animals,

licking them furiously, dry rivers of eyes.

As much as rosemary, the oils

persist on the skin of those with the fiercest thirst,

the smell of short, slender roots grows

on the dark flowers of secret desire . . .

The moon skins itself like a bird in your water,

as if fevered, the tigers chase its light,

insane phantasm of an ultimate hunt

into the river, your eyes, possible to reach.

I am ice before you. A source so cold

can not ignite without an angel to grant it heat,

and this angel of yours lowers itself to your pond,

but I do not hear it sing, I do not feel it flow.

Ah, your tigers are so thirsty! Let them drink us,

and when my mouth dries, it is finished,

release them on me, never cease their attacks:

for your crazed beasts I contain a dear inside my body!

It hurts to let you lose, because it hurts the earth

when a root dries up without breaking the stem,

there is a light in the flower so that the air knows

what the ground knows, because it has roots.

I accept that you flow in other river beds; it hurts me,

because I am a channel as deep as your source.

When you pour yourself into others you will spill through them,

you will overflow their depths, breaking them inside.

I am your equal, there is no other land

that can give you what I can give you.

Instead of denying me your blossom, run,

I will make you my water, warm your seed.

What mania of force that defies your thrusts!

What wildness that does not crave the yield!

*Translator's notes: This is my first serious attempt at a translation. Poetic translation is an endlessly fascinating discipline with no definitive answers, like an algebraic equation with an infinite number of solutions for the variable. The original Spanish is titled Aunque te diga No, empéñate en Sí..., for which there was no available English translation. Special thanks to Elsa Leon for helping me grasp some of the more difficult syntax.

Comments: Add Your Own.

Monday, April 30th, 2012

Time:5:09 am.

The night rests

like a ball of fur

on your tongue.

I come into the quiet

of your wild things,

bleeding so the stars

can have something

dark to shine in,

my wings blackened

by somebody's dream.

All night you disappear

over the river,

all night the water

combs you black.

We pray with our bodies

cold sweat, a hymn,

never knowing which night’s

mouth is secretly chanting

curses to those stars

we do not let own us.

You give me flowers

resembling moths’ wings,

you teach me how

to talk in my sleep,

and sleep is a prayer

hatching like a nest of snakes,

our animal souls

lift to the heavens

on rain clouds.

I love your lips

when they’re wet with wine,

with the thick red milk

of the vampire bat,

the black milk

of the black bear,

and sometimes I pour your milk

on my nipples

and let the pigs think

I am their mother.

Your blood is in the snow

like a river of lions,

your face behind a veil

full of wasps.

Is it death

that has us by the throat

in a velvet arc

of murderous speed,

assassin beautiful?

What shape can we swallow

to make us feel whole?

The sleeper, trapped

in my body,

turns and turns,

a jungle orchid opens

for a love-struck bee,

into my stomach

an explosion of stars.

When you roar,

you only mock

the ache inside,

wearing a mask

through which the cyclone

bores black.

Creature whose claw

could kill me, 

touch me, I am dying,

I wear your skin.

*This piece is a collage synthesized in the tradition of Flarf but with a more intelligent search algorithm and a highly-focalized data set. 

Comments: Read 1 orAdd Your Own.

Monday, March 26th, 2012

Subject:Tractor Beam
Time:1:59 am.

O lightship

o holy of holies

a galaxy of distant muses

bleed your colors

like they are soaked in bleach

and turning white.

Star we can not travel to:

disappear behind us 

at godlike inhuman speed.

Propulsion: godlike, 

your mouth is a warp drive

hurling us into oblivion,

in each kiss

there is a moment

when I glimpse

the alien mother

decloak herself

and abduct a child.

Who will reclaim us?

O dark scion,

heralds of light

perjure me at your beacon

and betray the voyage.

What are you looking for

inside of my body

when you pull me

into your ship?

Your apparatus

is hardwired into my brain

like a spent bullet,

you feed me with tubes.

On the inhalation

of your vapors,

I deposit my love

in a foxhole so remote

your instruments couldn't dissect it

with their newest scalpels.

Why was I chosen,

o silence acute and eternal?

You, great tech goddess

whose voice is a weapon,

your vacuums deaden

my screams the moment

they launch from my throat,

my mouth lights signal fires

that breathe out no smoke.

I swallow a lake of your milky fluid

and uncloud my eyes:


Comments: Read 4 orAdd Your Own.

Friday, March 9th, 2012

Time:2:31 am.

Perfect was the artifact,

preserved in fluid

behind a seal of wax.

Its hot press unbroken 

and its acids


from the goddess statue

the body part

it was agent to.

Shapes crawled out of my cradle

and wrote their names

on your neck,

I starved myself

for this moment,

I hungered

until my shadow

lost its darkness

and the embryo shook loose.


I couldn't find your mouth,

or I kissed you,

like a falcon 

without eyes,

and without lips,

I could only

stab your face 


until I found its womb,

and what waited

for me there.

Comments: Read 2 orAdd Your Own.

Sunday, February 19th, 2012

Subject:Invitation, Surrender
Time:5:45 am.

BY W.C. Murray

“I savored fully in my mouth your fortifying mud that recalled to me the sacred black breast of my Sudanese wet-nurse.” - Filippo Tommaso Marinetti

Lady of the white wave,

(in the clean shroud of your name

my garments have lost

the black scent of death

and transformed into an ocean)

take this man

and drown him. 

Lady of the fish,

(whose bones are thrown

into the sky and turn into stars,

two separate mouths caught

on the same lure)

show me a sign.
Lady of the pearl,

(from whose unseen nipples 
the pale snake of revolution nurtures 
my newborn language inside 
of your body, a thing so fragile 
it can be called a shell)

be unbroken.

Lady of undying light,

  (whole fields of stemless orchids
when lost to your brightness
appear in a final gaze like halos 
"without saints to wear them down")

be everywhere.
Lady of the hidden garden,

  (once I shared the vision
that there exists in you 
a woman who plants flowers
that only grow when she dreams 
of the sun)

I pray
that you will find me.
Lady of the deep,

(in the greatest scene of world literature
Count Roland blows so hard
into a horn that his temples explode,
he can not destroy Durendal

because she is too perfect

to be bruised by mere stone,
I am a rock and you an invincible sword)

I am waiting

to be cut into. 

Lady of yearning,

(for every night I go unkissed

a village is massacred,

soldiers loyal to the king

retake as much blood

from the rebels as my heart

loses aching)

accept my invitation

as a surrender.

Comments: Read 4 orAdd Your Own.

Monday, December 26th, 2011

Time:2:13 am.
From your white clefts,
from your crib of ice,
your keep,

in chasms made of ivory,
in fissures, skeletal,

you marshal the shadows
of a hundred nights,

of coldness audited
from the end of winter.

When you hunt the fox,
when you cloak yourself,

the moon
takes back its bone,

like a burial in snow,
your empty ribs
reposses their wound.

Comments: Read 4 orAdd Your Own.

Sunday, December 4th, 2011

Time:2:58 pm.
Our skin deepens
       as we have the dream that the ruby
                                            is a flame,

a desire, 
an ornament
      through which our bodies wear their redness.

In its opaque silence,
in its crystal serums,
                              it anoints us,

we emerge from its amulets

      if you speak to us
           while we sleep

how will we recognize your voice,
                             with our new skin,
                                    with our sacrament?

Will you come to us 
                             wearing your burning
                              as if it were an armor?

Will you come to us
                             wearing a red dress?
Comments: Read 2 orAdd Your Own.

LiveJournal for MEZCAL.

View:User Info.
View:Website (My Website).
You're looking at the latest 20 entries. Missed some entries? Then simply jump back 20 entries.