Category: Love

Wild Kingdom

for Yumiko Kayukawa

Sacrosanct superflat allusions
meticulously drafted shamans
pop art girls snog anime animals

postmodern bestiary of familiars
floral fantasia collides with
kawaii panda bears

Kid Robot toy spins
her subculture hothouse
of mystic supa luvas

I have the privilege of hosting Meeting the Bar today where we will explore Bernadette Mayer’s Writing Experiments  and hopefully have some fun doing it. I chose to write in 3D. You are welcome to pick any one of the suggestions that appeal to you for today’s prompt. See you at dVerse Poets Pub!

Fierce Nature

We were wild gods long forsaken
our bed of passion birthed
thunder dragons in a blooded sky

We were sea monsters ruling
the muted oceanic world
scrying in the dark depths

We were bundled soul sticks
so that we could not be broken
straining against the pressure

We were travelers in the spirit boat
our shamanistic selves couldn’t tame
tempest remnants of our humanity slain

Our deep psychic work mirrored
sexual arousal, oh how those sustained
plateaus shuddered through me

So I grew afraid, apart
ate specious tales of hearth fires
believing I could be safe

For a long while I was invisible
wanderlust overtook me and I forgot
my unrelenting intensity and we

Until I awoke, bathed in the potential
of my ferocity, regained my form
and headed to the mountains

Upon a forest path I encountered you
my wild, blackest wolf, blue eyes piercing,
your chaos magic revealing my true name

You howled it to the heavens, claiming me
as your equal, creating our language anew
outer being/inner creature regained

Your soulful tenacity and endurance
prevailed, reuniting us; at night I cry out:
cover me with your wildness!

Please use headphones and turn up the volume, both on your computer and YouTube to hear the audio, this is a spoken word poem. It is an erasure poem based on the 3rd chapter of The Kama Sutra of Vatsyayana. I am hosting Meeting the Bar: Critique and Craft today at dVerse Poets Pub where we will be exploring Erasure Poetry. There are tons of ways to approach the prompt so for further examples see here and here or visit others who’ve already posted their erasure poems today. Please don’t be intimidated by the visual aspects of this prompt, you may simply chose words from an existing text and post them (attributed) on your blog as you would any poem or you can incorporate white out, marker, paint or multimedia to create a visual aspect. I would love for you to join us later.

Frozen Angels

incoherent, irrational
emotionally hypothermic
she initiates terminal burrowing

paradoxical undressing,
an illusion of warmth,
accelerates her demise

beneath the frosted
eyes of aspens
a final hallucination

circle of frozen angels
their wings long distorted
by the transformative ice

preside, their excruciating
silence heralds her
last breath, reveals
her true nature

Notes: This poem is a continuation of Ice Floe, originally posted in March:


“Man is not free to refuse
to do the thing which gives him
more pleasure than any
other conceivable action.” – Stendhal

III 1: Pure potentiality and suffering

forceps bruise her unformed head
Shakespeare’s extraordinarily gifted
sister is born, made aware
of her conscious mind, she will
now address the reader as an I
already creating lexical lists,
exploring the avenues
of concurrent thought
am I dreaming or the
universal dreamer?

III 1.1: Anything can happen

it does

III 2: The sanatorium collides with the imaginarium

I keep you under lock and key
like the Marquis de Sade
my kaleidoscopic star,
you blow my mind
and arouse my (curiosity)
I’m repelled, terrified, and
utterly besotted by your shenanigans

III 3: Neologisms ignite the thaw

I will write my way to freedom
into or out of sanity depending
on the size of my nonsense
dance to the compelling
beat of semiotic erotica

IV 1: The awakening and immersion

Your image arrives in my mind
and I realize what it is
to melt in the presence
of another’s beauty
travelling an infinite distance
to caress the contours of your face
embrace your anarchic heart

I make no claims upon it
will not burn it or suck it dry
before you are gone
only I want to see it beat
and respond to the world
its liberty astounds

IV 2: Without a room of her own watching the procession of the sons of educated men

a spiritual medium scrys:
you know nothing of the frustration,
the rage to master
crushed by the tides
of apathy, misogyny, and abuse
my ferocity burns mountains to ash

your terrors haunt you,
mine devoured me long ago
I am free of fear but dead
yet continue to believe
I am alive

IV 3: Conflation of the immensely attractive and talented jester genius, the teasing diver, the downtrodden poet philosopher, the spiritual professor, a faithful cuckold (almost), a foreign artist, the intriguing flatterer/thinker, all the gods and monsters, matter and antimatter, and me, the one who refuses to be cast as the observed

Hofstadter laughs at my quandary
we no longer need to get together
fuck, or even exchange e-mail, now
that we understand that our consciousness,
our ‘I’ is distributed among all our brains
as part of the ‘strange loop’
it makes human interaction redundant
I’ll keep to my cave
Zarathustra Rapunzel
consummate performance artist

unless, of course, mind melding
isn’t the primary agenda
linguistic experimentation is
akin to sexual creativity
was Joyce masturbating
or gifting us a vital energy?
(he so wanted to be natural)
will my art be tainted like Bronte’s
with rage and sexual frustration?

I gave up everything for you
but gave it to someone else
who shattered it into pieces

V 1:Fluid cyclicality

an enormous aureate ouroboros forms
and proceeds to consume itself –
it’s in its nature

V 2: Chameleonic desire, a great daimon

the most profound expression of the self
or even more ontological than this ‘I’
the loam out of which a self emerges
Plato’s divine spark longing
to unite with ever more
transcendent forms of beauty

V 3: Interstices and penumbra of the soul

Eros awaits in the density of allusion
cartographic intertextual patterns
that gather in erotic cathexis
vast ecosystem arises
integrates with the eternal

V 4: Skeleton key

for a moment I thought
you caught sight of
me in the corner of your eye,
availed your coruscant intellect
and emotional intensity to really see –
not observe but engage,
an eye that challenges but invites
a look that doesn’t degrade,
demand, or destroy but makes whole
a look of recognition
often only given by
an inner paramour

V 5: Anything can happen

I will live here in the poem
and begin to see what is possible

Notes: This poem was written for Victoria’s excellent prompt on literary allusion at dVerse Poets Pub. It makes allusions to James Joyce’s Finnegans Wake (perhaps the most allusion laden literature ever written), Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own, and the philosophical writing of John Riker. The title Saudade is Portuguese and means the feeling of longing for something that you love and is lost. Another linguist describes it as a ‘vague and constant desire for something that does not and probably cannot exist.’

Nora’s Irresistible Missives

Brief, brutal act
ransacked pages

wrote love’s stages
their rages inked
taut cages wrought

here she first taught
what he sought out
she caught his core

James Joyce’s score
‘strange-eyed whore’, Nora –
jibdoor obscene

Letters unclean
to be seen, shown,
his keen mind blown

gifts to atone
she alone knew
his moan’s timbre

Written for Form for All at dVerse Poets Pub on Than Bauk James Joyce and Nora Barnacle’s erotic letters were the inspiration for this piece. A jibdoor is a door made flush with a wall without dressings or moldings and often disguised by continuing the finishings or decorations of the wall across its surface.

Orphan of Silence

My poem for Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub, Orphan of Silence, is here:

The Archway (read by the author) – if you’d like to read it for yourself it is the most recent post. Otherwise click here.

The Archway

Digital Art by Used with permission

‘I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul’*

An engulfing meteor shower writes our passion into existence
I lick the candied drips that streak like star trails to my mouth
fetishizing the geography of your body, its angular geometry

delicacy of a nuanced line skips fire across my face as you trace
words, hot breath infused, bending to the contours of my
desirous curvature, whispers embrace the inner recesses,
a secret that unfurls this singularity, collapsing my life

into this moment, potential energy gathering in our
liminal space, your shadow inscribes its legacy upon my body:
asterisms, pictorial glyphs, symbols of erotic exclamations,
broken chords releasing a neo-lexicon of sound

I want to redraw the lines, drafting scripts of bliss, pour
color upon your skin to transgress the boundaries of your
pleasure threshold, arrive in your mind in ecstatic pictures –
flood your senses, transport you to my inner landscape

words of seductive influence, your ambassadors,
have served you well – first contact of flesh presses their weight
into me, I fade to deepest blue limned with strawberry’s kiss
in a place beyond language, awash in celestial light

* from Pablo Neruda’s Love Sonnet XVII

Linked to dVerse for Poetics:

quasar blazes at the known limit of the universe
signifying the birth of pleasure at the edge of a
circumbinary system, once considered an impossibility,
but only to those forgetful of the myth of Eros & Psyche

Psyche, beau ideal, planetary anomaly in a galaxy where
perfection cannot exist, her acts of imagination,
butterfly fantastications, pull her toward the precipice
of consciousness, anagoge of luminous poetry
her liquescent beauty unbounded attracts his ardor

Eros, cloaked as an invisible planet approaches,
influencing her orbit, she perceives only a blue shift,
introduction of a chaotic cosmogony hinting at metamorphosis
captured by high precision photometry she senses
his gravitational pull, enticing mirage, buried image of divinity

so they are joined in clandestine union, mystic bliss
until Psyche’s atmosphere is pregnant with new life
in his immaturity he proclaims if she awaits the birth
without revealing his true nature it will become immortal,
but if she must know him, the child will fall from celestial heights

her multiplicity introduces hidden doubts, what dragon,
what unseen monster, caresses her?
a cathetic quandary that consumes her delight
she stops a passing pulsar, pleading for revelation
showing her Eros’ true self as a god benighted star

he flees, red shift abandonment, condemning her, an orphan planet
struck from his orbit, floating alone through interstellar space
freezing to death in a spiritual suicide, abrading her love
seeking absolution for her transgression and his return
she is tested, searching for cyphers to initiate transformation

at the end of her trials she comes weary to the black hole
an underworld that could consume her soul and the promise
of her unborn potentiality, where she must travel for the final answers
in her quest to regain his gaze, further into the darkness that will act
as catalyst yet threatens to unravel all if she becomes consumed

victorious she emerges but the immersion takes its toll
she is rendered silent awaiting the restorative kiss of Eros’ forgiveness
humbled by her struggle he returns to her side convincing the gods to
grant her immortality, transmuting her into a star that she might shine
as brightly as he, in a circumbinary system birthing an eternal joy

ISS Startrails – TRONized from Christoph Malin on Vimeo.

Written for Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub: Tuesday is my birthday so I will be a bit slow returning visits.