GOING DOWN THAT LANE - AGAINI crave to sleep sockless in his crazy bedAmongst all those jealous creases Made by girls who beat me to it. I want to know that barefoot delight, Retain the memory of it, Even into the wild dementia of death time. I dream that the dreams I would have there Lilt with the same heart wrenching motion With which he smiles. I dream That he presses his butterfly eye lids Against my trip wired skin. I crave to ride bareback On his fast but certain kiss, Yelling giddy up Into the buzzing giddiness Of that perfect imaginary night. I would retain the memory of that Even into the lilting dementia of death time. WILL I LIKE IT?Are you gonna grab me by the lapelAre you gonna slap me around Or kiss me? Are you gonna blow heavily significating smoke into my ears When you whisper those inevitable sweet nothings? Are you gonna wake me up from my slumber From my dreary security? Or are you gonna blacken my eye With those vicious fingers Those long insults That invade the frightened creases of my skin? Are you gonna grab me by the lapel? Are you gonna slap me around? And am I gonna like it? FEATHERSShe bites her tongueAdding blood to all her plumage All those feathers Adorning her thin neck Her smooth shoulders Some of them drift down the street behind her Bright pink Falling in the gutters and catching on the winter trees Some are crushed by taxis Motorcycles Some attach themselves to passing lips An unwanted kiss Some lodge themselves in hairstyles Making nests She wipes the blood with her fingers
She spits blood onto the pavement
She bites her tongue
I'VE BEEN THEREI've beeen there, in those nite-clubs, on those streets, in thosegutters, asleep on those dirty benches, in that city and that one and that other, awake in the late night, dreaming in the high day, on that bus, in that dwindling country-side, in his bed and his bed and his bed and his and her lap (just once), on the radio and on the t.v, in that car with that song playing again, on those lying lips and on those crying ones, in that bar, in my father's house and my mother's head, at that funeral and the others that didn't hurt quite so much, in the hospital visiting that time and that time and that time, on that country road, in that vision, at the party where I laughed out loud and the party where I lost it and cried, at the weddings - all of them, on the grass beneath the sky playing with the clouds, on the big screen, in that toilet block where the young black man rose above the stench as if in ascension and in those other rooms where all the white men lolled on beds like emperors making me want to run run run, drunk, on the floor drunk, in the garden drunk, on the balcony drunk, in his eyes drunk, drunk with the love of the Buddha, at the beach, on the sand, in the waves, on the plane on the way to somewhere else a dozen times, against a lamp-post like a hooker, in photo albums like a child, on speeding trains, in the hands of that religious man who gave me money and a hug when he said goodbye, on stage, backstage, in the wings waiting for someone to take their bow, in that park where i said 'I love you' and heard the nothing that echoed back, in graffiti, in shopping centres, in temples, on lists, on minds, in ears, in eyes, in hearts. I've been there. THE PUGILISTSI said to the boxerStay And cry a while Have a cigarette Watch me clean my skin Watch me watch t.v Naked As the starlit night. Eat something Take small bites for me I hate the greedy Chew Dozens of times Walk a few hundred miles With those white teeth. Meditate with your head on my pillow Watch yourself drift within the mirror Where I place all the soiled postcards Of places I don't know. Smell me and all those absent others On your skin Take note Be still. Remember the sound of fingers undoing shirt buttons Zippers Flies Whatever you choose. Count my breaths Make with them a cozy rythm Dance to it Like a hooker from Brazil. Get in touch with your senses Feel the danger beneath the sheets The hatred I've found there Then stay And cry a while Following the heartbeat beneath these broken tattoos of mine If you like Then watch me clean my skin of your dirt Naked As an ancient fist fight.
Reviews"engrossing, spooky...erotic" SouthPoem Zine
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