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September Poems

La Casita

Smooth—
here we go;
listen, listen
“thanks
for the conversation
and the coffee—”
consensual anonymity;
nakedness.

Stimulant

My last form
of self destruction;
not the draining
of the blood
or the slow drag
of a cigarette
Muscles quaking—
I pull at my skin—
Watching
absorbing
pound it;
take two.

Lipstick

His girlfriend;
my girlfriend.
Feminity
penetrates;
masculinity bleeds.
the Egg releases
the Egg releases
stop.

The Serpent’s Tongue

I’ve taken shits
better han sex
with a man.
Sex, defne it:
an art form— subjective
pleasure, however,
isn’t practical.
Little girl,
you know nothing
Hear your serpent’s tongue
hear your serpent’s
tongue hiss
and slither.

Heat
Oh,
sun deities!
I am parched.
The cactus
with a lone
needle—
withering
flower.
Scavengers,
here is your
feast.
Feed, feed
on my flesh;
I will digest
in your bodies
and once you rot
I will be born, again.

El Canto De Las Muertas

Why be frightened?
She sings,
Sings!
put on your spectacles—
everything is nothing;
impermanence is infinite.
Reincarnation?
Fertile womb:
your odors
taste like cinnamon—
spice of life!
Celebrate your
spectrums,
your ancient
forms.
She is not soft,
not round,
nor can she be
found in any sort
of listed entry
manufactured by
his logic.
Search for her
forbidden fruits
buried under
the functions of
the institutions
that silenced
her.
Because
she Sings,
Sings!
That song
only the brave
can learn.

Posted on Tuesday 25th, Sep, 2012 at 08:07 pm 
Notes 3
Heavenly

I

"You do not know my father,

otherwise you would know me”

Said the man in the white cloth

obey what those who said

they know— betray, betray, betray

II

The only thing God

ever created was eternity,

everything real

is an illusion

(not in the blueprint)

III

You know the periodic table of elements?

My flesh knows it.

I’m in pain—

the grass knows it.

the metal knows it.

all the pesticides know it.

IV

"That’s nice"

Yes. That landscaping,

that shirt, that green-blue planet

murder and money

right there

in the palm

of your right hand

V

"Life is not fair"

try hell

try death

try never

being born

then

and

only

then

can you tell me that

Posted on Monday 16th, Jul, 2012 at 12:56 am 
Notes 3
Clam Chowder

Seated on metal 

folding chairs,

the most obscure coronation

you’ll ever encounter

"Praise Jesus

Praise the Lord!”

says the mare

with the clouded coat

over the steaming clam chowder

as the holy water pours and pours

from the mouth 

of the Father

"Praise Jesus 

Praise the Lord!”

for the three

who came off the

street and their

Blurred vision 

ignited by the 

crossfires of

the six pupils;

"Praise Jesus

Praise the Lord!”

for the nonbelievers

us and them—

us versus them

(the six

 popping in and

out of the pews

like the groundhogs

of february)

and the one with the shaky hands

in the red shirt asking the questions,

and the one with the voice of flowing water,

and a mother and daughter

and the lesbians

"What makes a man a man of God?"

for you young girls who turn 

around looking for men

"What will you be studying next year?"

for you young girls who 

must make something?

Oh, just the ingredients

to a hot bowl of 

clam chowder

Posted on Tuesday 6th, Mar, 2012 at 08:28 pm 
Notes 2