Kelam

The universe lay wet at your feet
Bleeding like hanging teeth
And red fire

You woke up.
Screamed.
Sighed
And dreamed of another day
Walking into yourself
Into the sun
Into the pavement


Jumping into other people
And each place that moved about
You,
Making you
Into you.


Balletic, you
Faint into the life
That is this.


Lips open
And eyes dying
Into a labyrinth of
Gazes


You fumed
And tasted
Yourself
Or something
Else
Elemental, pulsing
And cursing
Your mind
Into a quasar.


Into
The gospel of
An Unending
Organism,
That fights
And rips and eats and licks
Into the skin
Of an anonymous beast


Burnt into
Your pill,
Into your headless
Routine.
Into a soft, lucid death
That is slower than
the gaps between you
and that planet of reality.

You wake up.
You scream.
You dream.
And you die again
Into the womb
Late at night
Under your eyes.


dark mines
holding you by the throat
and your stomach
so still
with curious crying.

Black Current Grl

I've eaten pulsars 

for breakfast, Sir. 

I like being alive. 

I'm not the best girl,

But I've been called worse.

Maman

Mother,
I'm an intercity w(rec)k,
A currency of anger.
Lazy poet
Slave-girl to my own prison
Which you made with your late night interviews
And television jobs.
Mother,
Im a blood-red book destroyed by father,
his deadly-snake-psuedonymed plays.
And his salary from a young dream
Mother, I'm an ice-berg of thyroid neurosis.
Mother, you unholy icon,
I am like you in every nightmare,
Even awake.

Mother,
I'm a bitch because I was born.
Of you. Of you. Of you.

Homme

On your wrist
is this old, scarring fever
from a dream
and your sweat like a mad perfume.

lover, you were made from hair, sex and blood
but you are now a part of my cool afternoon, my bed, my mouth
Which fits perfectly into yours

you are only mortal,
but not, in this poem.
Not with my every lick fastened to your soul.