24 05 2017

it’s too much it’s too much it’s too much

the wonder

wet, forward moving, together, churning

kisses. oh kisses.

whisper, let me back in

slipping, urgent towards one thing

not caring not caring what my face looks like for once

love

love love love

flooding me, drowning me

his voice in the darkness like a man in a raft set out to sea

Hearing the crest, fallen against the bulkwark of my darker ship

glimpses in moonlight obscured

get inside me

please

get inside me please please

let me hold you inside me

keep you safe and small and protected

like a prayer and I am happy

I am finally happy

you are inside my body like water drizzling down my neck, behind my ears

all inside me like a crowd of cheers, and balloons – thousands – set free at once

like being killed and killed and thank you

thank you

I never knew what tenderness could do

how it could crack me like a blade of grass cracks the cobblestones

 





Food Poem 1 – Wontons (huntun)

27 04 2017

In the beginning
there was nothing –
this was huntun.

nothing grew lonely
turned in on itself
and from emptiness
blossomed

succulent
hothouse meat
encased
in delicate shells
that break open
to release
torrents.

the first
“ahh…”
of satisfaction
a homecoming





Unwanted

17 04 2017

Is a woman
Something that men even want anymore?
Or do they want girlfriends and assistants
models and mothers
wives and sisters
fantasies and servants
nurses, vessels, and whores?

Do they want me
foaming from the sea
the tang of batteries
between my legs
and my ancient instinct
listening like antelopes
on the Serengeti

Do they want me
dirty, damp, and base
mouth full of tongue
and taste and invectives
Acidic, unyielding and frank
Hair unwashed for days and days
because I like the smell
of wax and leaf litter

Do they want me
with my broken windows
and warehouses of gleaming eyes
watching from the dark
and smiling and snarling

And if they don’t want me,
could that absolve me?
Set me free
to run, to jump, to dive
and let the waves carry me
back to that place from whence
Venus first strode in from the tide?





Poignance

23 03 2017

It was just a pot plant

set beside the armchairs

in the Costa coffee shop

 

But the curvature of the leaves

the transition from yellow to dark green

the shadows laid against each other

crescendoed into such a significance

that for a between-time instant

I loved so much I felt myself rooting into earth

 

while I walked to the counter

for an apple juice





I love you, chickadee

22 03 2017

It’s just you and me, chickadee

in this labor called life

You and me to toil beside each other

to face the dismantling of our body

(our poor, tortured, blameless body

that we neglect

and scrutinize in turns)

 

You and me to pick each other up

in the aftermath of inevitable unkindness

and disappointment from other people

(how CAN they be so callous

and how CAN they be so inattentive

and how CAN they fail to witness you

time and time again)

They are only they and themselves too

and really, chickadee,

were you really there EVERY time they needed you?

 

I believe in you, chickadee

you are where the poems come from

the one who notices the magnolia blossoms

so white and heartbreaking

against the dark morning sky

the one who tells me to love people

and objects and animals and the sky

even though it’s painful

and humiliating and I am ashamed

 

And I’m sorry, chickadee

for all the times I punished you, called you names

and told you to be different, to shut up or to go away

because you are the one who dreams inside

who sees the small shoots growing through the cement

and cries

 

I will protect you, chickadee

when your feelings get too big

and they start to turn inward

when you start slashing at the walls of our home

(which is our body and our self)

I will be there to take the razor from your hand

hold you and tell you that we are all alone

but it will be alright, chickadee