mezcal

Romanian Love Charms pt. 2

2009-07-17T09:36:47Z

You make this charm
with a metal skewer,
you heat it on the fire.

You thrust the skewer
into the warm heart
of a living hen.

You say to yourself,
I am not thrusting this skewer
into the heart of a hen,

I am thrusting it
into the heart of a woman
to make her come running

as though she could not sleep
at all in her bedclothes,
as though she was mad.

And what she does
with one single tongue,
do it back with two,

kiss her with your mouth
as if it kissed back
a legion of people,

let her climb your ladder
down to the river
where a carriage waits,

wash her with water
until it falls off her body
and onto some flowers,

do this by a dirt road
where no people walk.
Now she is yours.

Romanian Love Charms

2009-07-16T06:06:40Z

Until she meets you
the sky and the earth will catch fire
from the hissing of snakes.

Go to the tallest tree
in the woods and say,
I'm calling you here

with ninety-nine lovers of mine,
may you be unable
to stay in one small place,

the mountains of Galilee
have all caught fire,
hurry up here with buckets.

Take the water from the well
into your mouth
and bring it home that way.

Spit the water on the woman
who is being charmed
while she sits on a thread of hemp

whose ninety-nine knots
have been unbound
at night under the stars.

Burn the thread until it is clean
and dip it into a stream
using the ashes like light.

Sun, sun, stop in her mouth
the way the world stops
when the blackbird sings

in the middle of the forest
where no girl ever braided a white pleat
no black dog barked,

smear her with snake skin,
set her like a scarecrow
by a chicken coop,

make her body beautiful,
that she may be kissed
by every villager.

Heaven is an orgasm

2009-07-13T07:29:11Z

If I believed in miracles
would you lift up
your skirt

the way God promised Noah
with the rainbow,
a guarantee?

This holy man
was locked up
for being too pious,

no matter what
they tried
he wouldn't stop praying.

This is how
I want you,
your nudity

a vow for which
I'd destroy myself
repeatedly.

This is how
I make
love,

this is how
I believe
in god,

sucking my first communion
from the temple
of your body,

your body --
the only thing capable
of answering a prayer.

Lure

2009-07-02T05:26:23Z

As soon as the string
is set to tease,
I can not wait

to throw my lips
on your needle-curves
& envelope the bait.

Girl I want you
like a mad fish,
a suffocating fish,

throwing myself
towards you,
the heavy gasps

so unafraid
of being stolen
from the water.

There is no barb too cruel
to teach me shyness,
I rush to meet your pointed gnarls

in my fresh blood,
red and as harsh
as the hook itself.

What lure would
you dare let grapple
with my appetite and slickness?

july 21, 2007 re-edit

Cnidocyte

2009-06-02T02:43:36Z

How is the sting
of the jellyfish
not love?

You have taken lesser hurts
into your body
and married them,

you have let the tongues
of men viperous
coil into your open mouth

as if the penetrant
was the only thing
that could poison you,

as if wanting the kiss
could not be that predatory,
that dangerous.

What in the thorn insists
that its heart
should not impale you?

Love should paralyze!
It should blister
and disorient

like a bulb
that melts skin
off the bone,

you should feel the heart
scald as it changes you,
you should know

inside this sting
is a proposal
of venom,

inside this venom
is the device
of love itself.

Things I like to do 2

2009-01-25T21:29:39Z

firey romantic chemical eruption
i go bang
with thick fluid
you get hot
liquid explosive

moan like a pig
i want it filthy
in a cage
you animal
squeal

heavy metal body safe penetrator
i find you
through steel
my muscle
armor-piercing

drive into a hole deeply
i carve curves
into your core
rough twisted nail
screw

doing it in busy spot
we love to fuck
in public
wrong place sex
exhibition

giving in to temptation
i sin
on your face
sticky evil
vice

expose feathers thrown full open
snatch me
in your wings
snake eater
spread-eagle

Kamikaze

2008-10-06T13:26:10Z

I

If I was dynamite,
would you still hold me
in arms made of fire?

May I speak of fire
and not be burned
lest we should detonate

in our love
all around us,
the fuses of our bodies.

II

Remember
the destructive power
of a single atom.

Just one brought Japan
to its knees, another
ended World War II.

Now how many
atoms populate
the human heart?

III

We go through our lives
with warheads
in our chests,

each weapon a want
threatening to end
in explosion.

So your love ticks
like a bomb--
kill me with it.

Phryne (Φρύνη)

2008-09-12T19:45:14Z

Forgive me,
I'm about to compare you
to a whore--

Phryne at the Areopagus.
Nude Phryne on trial.
The flesh as witness.

What was her nakedness
to the world
if not a testimony?

Think of your body
like you would
a crime.

Here is the spot
your white skin
did not get caught.

Here your soft hands
go unbound
to law.

How can cloth
conceal the entirety
of an innocence?

Derobe again,
let my eyes
decide.

I want to see you
like the jury saw Mnesarete
in Ancient Greece,

fully exposed,
without a flaw
of guilt,

your breasts more beautiful
than the idea
of justice.

Waiting

2008-08-05T22:58:54Z

If a closed mouth
anchors what is fatal
to its muteness,

speaking should
be enough to
unburden steel,

still your silence pours
into me like water
on a sinking ship.

So you must have
a real voice
now, love,

and use it
to sing to me
about not drowning.

Be to me
anything except
an ocean.

Aden

2008-06-24T05:27:18Z

You are almost
too quick to see--
unsettled snow settling,

(Think of how I don't know you
like you would ice.)

now your phantoms shrink
to a point
of light.

(As steam, I learn how your water
passes, from solid phase
to wraith-like gasses.)

But somehow I catch them,
the fastest colds
you bury me in.

(The unknowns avalanche,
I can not escape; you surround me.)

I frozen,
I Ahab,
the body you stick

(With a wooden leg,
you're my Moby Dick.)

between the white whale
and the ghost:
its pistol smokes.

When I wake
I really wake,
I give birth,

the mountains
I rise to
are melted.

a few petals

2008-03-24T07:21:15Z

Every time I write,
you thank me for my words.

My words, you express it,
as if they are bulbs
I had tendency to grow
all winter in the dirt,
and am taking you now
on a short walk through
the resulting garden.

What happens to you
when I say flower?
Does a red pavot arrive and relieve itself
of its prenatal filth?

A word is worth nothing
if it cannot unbury
a poppy from the cold ground.

What types of verbs
mount the soil
and ripen on a sentence,
echo, murmur?

The things I say are seed
and all of you is fertile earth
where no place is voiceless.

I whisper.
An irreproachable rose.
An irreproachable rose.

I scream.
Here is where I obliterated the mauve grass
of a weed.
Here is where I ruined an irreproachable rose.

I speak until my hands are dirty.

lust

2008-03-15T00:53:45Z

I've devised you
as the omen of the flame,
human torch.
�
I inherit your fire
in all the scarlet
of a colony of red ant.
�
Oh agonizer,
the hot ground erupts
its crimson acre,
�
blind, blood hued,
my agitation jolly rogers
on its six legs,
�
any urge sees
its burnt color quicken
the kindle.

Picnic

2008-01-18T08:21:26Z

Bindwood,
attach your creeping stems
to my rock face.

(In this fantasy
I am merely a substrate
on which you spread the vine.)

The scalloped hazels,
the angle shades and willow beauties
will come, and when they do,
you must cling to me.

I am enough of a mountain,
we will not be windthrown
if you blossom.

.

Lovestone,
invade me.

(Here you are a West Sussex church,
overcome by my Wisteria.)

Push yourself into
all of my compromises,
fill me with flowers.

Rainshield,
the more of you on me,
the less I crumble.

promising poems

2008-01-17T22:14:25Z

i put my vow
into a vase
and burn its wax:

know that which
fuels the wick
could clean the flame.

see how a promise
is sanitized each moment
it goes unextinguished?

i can cleanse you
like you've rinsed me,
lit in the residue
of your own pureness,
white candle.

WPN-114

2008-01-14T17:54:46Z

Poor Prometheus,
I saw the stump
and it reminded me of us.
I felt as old
as the first ring.

Is it even fair
for one thing
to live for
five thousand years?

Confess, you think
I am too impatient
to see ourselves
in the Great Basin
as a bristlecone pine.

But we'll grow like that.

A year will widen
us into the next
and wind our secrets
around our pasts in circles.

If we are lucky,
one day they will
cut us in half
just to count our rings.

Bang

2008-01-11T10:04:04Z

It is true, astronomy.

We are the center
of exploding stars,
and the elements
of each other's novas.

Last night while
waiting for your call,
the sky got hysterical.

A starry body closed in
and I panicked,
thinking it was a miracle
anything is not on fire.

Damn it Casee,
I wanted to tell you
how I can not chance
going back into space,
how a black hole
eats me each time
you are not there
like one cremation
after another.

What chance do we have
when all that is black
is ash and all that
is not is burning?

Sting

2007-09-23T19:29:51Z

Lover,
I am not wine,
you can not sip
a scorched spur
or savor fire.

But I burn
like the earth
in Oaxaca,

I molest
like a field
or irritating spice.

Your throat can have me
finger through flame
until the lump is ash.

To scavenge a hungry heart

2007-07-04T21:56:39Z

I love you like starvation,
my claws dig in you
while chewing on heart-stuff,

you are calling me too hungry,
and on your belly
I am an impolite eater.

I'm having the surprise
with a thirsty tongue
plates of you warmed,

an early bird tongue,
unashamed of the sticky things
it accidentally licks.

You are mine the way
the vulture owns the meat
from the stomach to the bone,

and I'm tearing off of you
the pieces you've left
for my feeding.

I am opening your mouth
and I'm being for it
the mother's beak,

in your dripping jaws
I come spitting you
the morning's worm.

After

2007-06-04T05:36:27Z

here is an airport love-thing
on the hood of quick car.

no question before the kiss
but my lips brought to you asking,
i like your answer before driving.
during, you reveal a tragic death
and the anniversary of which
I vow silently to comfort you on.
the streets to my aparment
are trafficed with freeway overflow
and your childhood memories.

there is an entangling of two metaphors
and a simile that must not be written.

what do you choose on the couch?
the one that requires an action,
is me moving when you glow and are ready.
the other waits alongside the bed
and is kept in a top drawer for convenience.
the two get simultaneous,
and something happens.
why do you want the light out?
I can take your beauty brightened.

Instead

2007-06-01T07:53:42Z

My hand is a circle of snake mouth
but this shape is not unbreakable.
I am curved and so much metal
rotates the serpent torso.
The autombile is a non-synonym
for surviving high speed geometry.
Now I am half-Shelby Cobra.

Flying word me's are what
I am in English, spoken.
How many atoms work for you
to know that, bag of atoms?
Something must travel through the air
and infiltrate your face, it is I.

Swamp, be a wet spongeless bog, mazed;
Florida isn't forever and neither is Louisiana.
Stuck is not wading on foot slowly
through the Southeast, but us candled,
melting into cracks on an old table.

The speed at which the bone
does not slow the claw
is reached by the maker of an ominous noise.
A detached arm is the weight of a paw
and a bobcat sound.

Things I Like to Do

2007-05-17T03:04:37Z

chess and sex manuoevering
i move you
on to the board
your clothes captured
check

cleaning mess all over
i drink up
at the wet bar
your wet thing
spill

thinking and creating it
you made new position
over emails in jest
sent love act
design

riding in car with noises
i use cruise control
on highway
a blow job please
honk

not picking up ringing
you can't be quiet
for the phone
our loud fucking
beep

delicious dining on meat being
i like it raw
on my plate
naked lady
carnivore

working out science theory
we write words
in erotic hypothesis
king size bed action
experiment

The Lion

2007-05-15T08:08:05Z

nietzsche we have failed
to pierce your fruit,
the firm rinds patronize us
their colors are all inedible

our atheists do not have
the bite to indent
a geography of unripe oranges
bitter and branched
on nihilistic trees

what can life be
without the interrogation
of its juices, how many
godless seeds arrange
behind the peel
waiting to be unbodied

in the pulp
of a new truth,
we must be lions,
devouring the bright skinned
god question raw,
an answer of sharp teeth.

MEZCAL [ Mistress Braun ]

2007-05-04T04:47:19Z

I'll shove you
against Berlin,
against 1944,
when I could still taste
the Hitler
on your lips,

hot and sour,
like the blood
and vinegar perfumes
your fascist cunt
grinds onto my pores
the times your
come-fuck-me
boots do.

I, too,
am a Nazi,
my war machines
rip into your
German capital
volleying rockets
through Jew hating hips
that dig in for mercy
five times a night,

Eva,
it was only a scratch.

-Mezcal

MEZCAL [ Faux Cello ]

2007-04-29T02:23:24Z

marry your song
to my muscle
that body you got
is the melody
and rhythm
of our music
it can only be
composed on
the flesh of your
strings when you
allow me
to bow them.
If you were
my symphony,
I'd play your
instruments
like a virtuoso,
fucking you
in Italian
until our
sweat beaded
into notes
and my sheets
got covered
with opera.

-mezcal

MEZCAL [ New World ]

2007-03-31T02:12:48Z

Magellan was no romantic.
He could not sail to you
the way that I can.
I need no map.
North can not matter
when you are every
direction which ends
the compass arrow.
I will be for you
Columbus, charting
the unspoiled waters of
your naked continent,
a discoverer of worlds.

-MEZCAL