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my mother, the purist, says people in love don’t need props



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27 Reviews



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Points: 61
Reviews: 27
Mon Apr 02, 2018 1:08 am
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spectator says...



The following poetry is likely to contain the overtly sexual, the possibly blasphemous & (worst of all) improper hyphen use.

You've been warned.
Last edited by spectator on Mon Apr 02, 2018 7:22 pm, edited 1 time in total.
went for a jog
  





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27 Reviews



Gender: Other
Points: 61
Reviews: 27
Mon Apr 02, 2018 1:14 am
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spectator says...



Lamb

Spoiler! :
god is clicking through prayers like old emails

cannibal, her wild curls swinging, kisses
and licks the pale pink neck
of man.

god is clicking through prayers like old emails

across the street, it is Easter Sunday
in the house cannibal’s mother has
always called green.

cannibal watches the Catholics
through the window framed
in blue paint.

she is thinking of the way Anthony Hopkins smiles
after he says “I’m having an old friend
for dinner.”

she is thinking the teeth in man’s smile
are a little whiter, but his lips
stretch the same.

god is clicking through prayers like old emails

man says to cannibal: will you scream like
Clarice Starling’s lambs
when I fuck you?

god is clicking through prayers like old emails

cannibal says to man: did he who
made the lamb
make thee?

god is clicking through prayers like old emails

man has a chip on his shoulder,
bend in the creek, cannibal sits
folded, kneeling.

she lets him brush the sleeves off her shoulders,
pour creek water, murky
like wine, down her body.

man lies cannibal on her stomach,
draws a thin slice down her back
with his fingernail.

she is pale pink, bleeding like Mary;
he will stitch her up with silk thread
while she lies still for days,

god is clicking through prayers like old emails.
went for a jog
  





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27 Reviews



Gender: Other
Points: 61
Reviews: 27
Tue Apr 03, 2018 3:12 am
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spectator says...



Bird-watching
Spoiler! :
"I want to cum all over you, as friends."

If you lived next door,

I imagine you'd choose the bedroom,
second floor, soft white ceiling,
with the window across from mine.

Like something out of Back to the Future
or Are You There God? It's Me Margaret.
you'd dangle bird-watcher's binoculars around your neck.

I'd start swallowing
sunflower seeds by the handful, painting
lips with raspberries, talking to crows.

They would say to fly is to
spread self wide open;
I'd forget to draw the curtains.

In the morning, we'd wash hands,
walk to school together, smiling
like new friends at the edge of a long life.

Instead, across the way is

a bedroom mostly empty. Sheets
infrequently wrinkled by guests
in the house of two men waiting to die.
went for a jog
  





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27 Reviews



Gender: Other
Points: 61
Reviews: 27
Wed Apr 04, 2018 2:07 am
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spectator says...



Call me by your hometown
ghost line: I am hungry and this is where I eat.
Spoiler! :
You are swallowing flies in the alley
behind the Church, dark for the sake of

darkness, where the highway, burping tar, hungry for
bodies, swallowed 23rd street.

The signs, quiet as heart murmur, skip
from 22nd to 24th. The rest of the city rolls on.

You ran out of breath mints, the flies -
at least - are gritty like baking soda.

You feel their wings, popcorn kerneled between
your teeth when you start undressing.

The dumpster, hungry-eyed, watches
on rubber haunches. You dive

into its open mouth, land on soft
underbelly of newspaper and old shoes, lie

on your back digesting anthropods - their bodies
unable to satisfy your itching hunger.

Between your thighs: an empty Sprite bottle
you think will satisfy more than the flies.
went for a jog
  





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27 Reviews



Gender: Other
Points: 61
Reviews: 27
Wed Apr 04, 2018 7:08 pm
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spectator says...



comfortable hole
Spoiler! :
comfortable hole (once a vegetable
garden, before that rows
of peonies) you
and your lover
will lie down (hands
or lips locked)
to wait (sleeping) for
the next life.

comfortable hole
in your chest (below
the breast where your second heart
should be) you fill
with mulch, spit
and fingertips.
went for a jog
  





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27 Reviews



Gender: Other
Points: 61
Reviews: 27
Thu Apr 05, 2018 8:53 pm
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spectator says...



My ancestors speak

Spoiler! :
I
My great-grandmother tied her baby boy to a wooden Crucifix on the hot nights when he couldn’t stop tearing the flesh from his bones.

II
He never grew old enough to fuck or think about fucking and she never prayed. Even before the bug spray, the waiting room, the air that wouldn’t stay inside his lungs, she never talked about angels or martyrs.

III
My mother says I scratched as soon as I could move my fingertips. On the hot nights, I slept in her bed while she held my hands.

IV
From my great-grandmother I inherited head turned skywards in Church and a wooden headboard. On a hot night, I ask a retired boy scout if he remembers the knot that fastens wrists to cedar.
went for a jog
  





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27 Reviews



Gender: Other
Points: 61
Reviews: 27
Sun Apr 08, 2018 3:46 am
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spectator says...



I promise I wrote this poem on April 6th. My day was a little crazy and I didn't have time to post until now.

Reversed
Spoiler! :
High Priestess on her back:
toes tucked under pillow,
head hanging off foot of the bed,
flesh and idea throbbing inside of her.

Her mother watching:
eyes shining through open window,
craters clustered like an up-turned nose,
white face blinking like a smile.
went for a jog
  





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27 Reviews



Gender: Other
Points: 61
Reviews: 27
Sun Apr 08, 2018 3:50 am
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spectator says...



I order a crow’s skull off the internet

Spoiler! :
I order a crow’s skull off the internet.
I need somewhere cool to rest my fingers.

Everything I touch sets my skin on fire:
the breast of the silver mannequin I cupped
in my palms and pressed my hungry lips to,
the deep pockets of my father’s jean jacket --
twenty years old, aging faster than his silver hair --
someone else’s hand I held, thin silver rings
squeezing below my knuckles like a promise.

I order a crow’s skull off the internet.
I jam my fingers through the eye sockets.
The bone scrapes until my hands are red
like raspberries, seeds and pulp, last meal
in the crow’s stomach, last meal in mine.

I order a crow’s skull off the internet.
I need somewhere cool to rest my fingers
until they can fit between yours.
went for a jog
  





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27 Reviews



Gender: Other
Points: 61
Reviews: 27
Tue Apr 10, 2018 11:28 pm
spectator says...



written April 8th

WE'VE NEVER SEEN SNOW
Spoiler! :
ash came like winter
spilling from the thighs of woman.

we caught grey flakes on our tongues.

spilling from our thighs: babies
without muscle, bone or future,
translucent like jellyfish.
went for a jog
  





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27 Reviews



Gender: Other
Points: 61
Reviews: 27
Tue Apr 10, 2018 11:31 pm
spectator says...



written April 9th

happy mud hands
Spoiler! :
happy mud hands undressing
faster than
self-replicating molecules

sloppy wet kisses
hot like the bottom of the ocean
before moon & earth collide
went for a jog
  





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27 Reviews



Gender: Other
Points: 61
Reviews: 27
Wed Apr 11, 2018 12:21 am
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spectator says...



a prayer (my very first)
Spoiler! :
kiss me on my Adam’s apple when I tell you I am something bruised and bottom-barreled, kiss me on my Adam’s apple when I tell you my flesh has rot-spots, kiss me on my Adam’s apple, call me honey crisp or pink lady.

never share me, if I ask you to, tell me how I come from your rib, push the hair behind my ear if I ask you to share me, push the hair, tell me how the feeling in my stomach is clay from your hands, push the hair tell me no if I ask you to, carve your name into my ribs.

sweet earth, bury my ribs here like apple seeds, the sun and the rain, I will thank you, my god, bury me here under sweet earth, my god, with hands like shovels, with hands that made me.

pluck me when I grow again, my god, pluck me from the tree with branches sprouting open like a ribcage, pluck me, my god, wide, sweet pink, earthy honey, kiss my Adam’s apple.
went for a jog
  





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27 Reviews



Gender: Other
Points: 61
Reviews: 27
Thu Apr 12, 2018 3:57 am
spectator says...



St. Paul
Spoiler! :
Men call me beautiful.
I chomp my carrot.
went for a jog
  





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27 Reviews



Gender: Other
Points: 61
Reviews: 27
Fri Apr 13, 2018 2:10 pm
spectator says...



from April 12th

I grow my nails long
Spoiler! :
sea shell breaths:
hot and long on the phone

your white foam ocean spray

the muscles in my hands
(meant to strangle water from dish rag)
wrapped and corded around my throat

I grow my nails long. When you say scratch, I want to leave a red mark.
went for a jog
  





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27 Reviews



Gender: Other
Points: 61
Reviews: 27
Mon Apr 16, 2018 1:58 am
spectator says...



from April 13th

Lean
Spoiler! :
lean into me:
my body, all the water of the world,
will hold you.

lean into me:
my nails will trace
your soft birchbark skin.

lean into me:
my spine, its cedar frame,
won't bend or fold.

lean into me:
I will whisper secrets
only stars know.
went for a jog
  





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27 Reviews



Gender: Other
Points: 61
Reviews: 27
Mon Apr 16, 2018 2:00 am
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spectator says...



YOUR LOVE IS SCARY
Spoiler! :
like climbing a firetower,
waiting in my basement for a tornado to pass.


MY LOVE IS CHEAP
Spoiler! :
like Diet Coke from a fountain machine,
Newports from SA.
went for a jog
  








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