alienor human writings

Of Tar and Stars. Exquisite Summer Evening in Brooklyn

2007-09-09T08:38:00.000-07:00

That thick tarred roof,
grainy under my bare feet
Raspy and warm as a cat's tongue
Darker than the summer night
I step into a beer you spilt
And that I couldn’t see in the faint starlight…

It sizzles between my toes.
It tickles and I giggle.

The roof is warm and wavy with air bubbles
Jagged with pipes we covered with candles
The warm breeze teases them
But kisses us.
The rows of houses go on forever
Music drafts through the leaved courtyards
And we have assembled here
In a city across the river from the city.

We wear the trinkets of our youth
Plain colored cotton clothes
Rhinestones in our hair
Lacquered nails, painted eyelids.
Glitter sparkles on our skins.
Orange moths signal cigarettes
Chuckling sounds the dark green
Sturdy bottles
I lie down, for I know I’ll find a whole sky to embrace me
And my friends’ beautiful presence

Fireworks may be sent skyway tonight
I am grateful
As for any intangible and freely given gift
That makes this moment perfect
As nothing - ever - is

I snatch those moments when my year ripens
When the summer dies of its own tenderness
I will leave in the morning when our bodies
Are heavy, content and weary
I will kiss all goodbye lightly, until the new summer comes
And though the thought is truly unbearable
Those moments are infinite, all of them beads
Of soul in my life
Each of them defined, but as all-encompassing
As a universe.

Oh, let me remember that night always
When all was peaceful
And I relished my friends’ warmth and glow
Even as I knew one of those planes would (soon!
Too soon!)
be taking me away
the following day maybe
When, feeling the breeze
I could still keep my ancient fear at bay
The fear to lose all, all over
Repeatedly
The beauty of summer
Short and long lived as my joy

Weaving Family

2007-09-09T08:36:00.000-07:00

I am weaving my own family
They said to use blood
But I am done with wounds
I want your free spirits and your love
In the recipe
To share memories
And my heart, laughs, home keys
To know our unshed tears
To be entitled to our inconditional support
And bitching in no small degree
Thanksgivings and Christmases to be of thee
The first numbers in my phone
My unborn children’s real family
I love you improbable companions
Scattered community
Of misfits and beautiful aliens
And me
We are gathered at last
The way I always dreamed it would be
I am there for you
We are there for we.

The 5-year old sleeper spy

2007-09-09T08:34:00.000-07:00

English is the answer

I lost a language when
I lost my family
My home, my country
I gave it up it in mourning
To round it all up
Nothing seemed worth saving anymore
I drove it deep inside.

To comprehend all that I’d lost
I could have cut off my hair
Slept in soot
Ribboned my flesh raw
Tattooed my face
But these things were not culturally acceptable
So I divorced a part of myself
As all was going astray
Haywire awry disastrous
All bonds stretched and painful
Razors slicing me back
Remodeling me
Into who I should have been

So this was my offering
My token, my symbol, my sacrifice
I would become other
I would go undercover
I would sleep
I divorced my soul
I gave my language away
I buried systematically it
When all was lost around me.

But I was smarter than I thought
A fiercely protective 5 year old
I hid my soul in the language
That I had smothered,
Like a nugget of gold
Like a universe in a bead
A safety device for years to come
A treasure search within myself
The lock was hidden
And the key carefully placed into Oblivion
A dense quality of forgetfulness
I set signs for myself
For later
And went as far as to forget
I had.
I was the consumate sleeper

They had betrayed me you see
They put hooks inside my heart
And then, they yanked them hard, strong, again
Teasingly, diagonally, and yet more
To see if it still hurt
They held me
They had a map of me
So I pretended the hooks had come loose
And there was nothing left to hurt
All the while keeping myself hidden
Hardly breathing
Like the child Zeus fostered
By deaf and dumb nymphs
I would show them nothing
You can never find my heart
For
My heart is in a box
Swallowed by a fish
Swallowed by a bird
Swallowed by a cat
Swallowed by a phoenix…

No, that is a tale for children
My heart is in English
And the key, quite simply
Is the language itself
Nothing you can hold
But a song you can sing
Vibrations that purr and croon and comfort

French is make-do
French is for deceiving
For structure
For adult-pleasing
French is a decoy
For a zombie
For a sleeper.

The relevance of Children

2007-09-09T08:32:00.000-07:00

Is this what I want
Is this what I want?
Produce children
Who will bear my poor eyesight
My imperfections, my inadequacies
My idiosyncrasies
Who will be bound to me
For I will not let them go
And when they think they do
I will know with grim satisfaction
I have clothed their spirits in flesh
And for that alone
Though the chain may be long as antipodes
It is incorruptible and
I am not letting go…

Children to do some vulnerability-watching again
And hate it
Again
Theirs, mine, my awful new vulnerability
That comes from having a vital organ
Outside my body
Who may die when I am not looking
And then what -

Have children and learn the fierceness
The violence of that love, possession
Hatred
Hatred for making me so utterly theirs
And yet not being perfect
Not being able to ever hurt them
Bringing them forth to an aquarium of racism
Injustice
Inequality
And not leaving them out of the fight.

Find the point.
What is the point?
What is my need to summon you here
To make my life make sense around you ?

I have been made utterly responsible for it
I have been made utterly responsible for it

And as every decision may -and should - be questioned
For purpose, meaning, degree of necessity
Even sugar cravings and even love
Thus I question this
What got into me to bring you into being?

You got into me.

You that we created from the rawest materials ever
Ourselves
Nothing else
And yet
You who are ours even less than
The furthest stars of the galaxy
Why?
What was the necessity
The twisted desire?
Is it like faith, that you may have it
And yet not understand or want it?
I still fight it, tooth and claw
For I know that when you come
I will be overwhelmed by you
And not question it again

Both me(s) will think the other one deluded
A prisoner of madness
What my dream personae are to me
Or vice versa.
We will ignore each other
But I foresee a time coming
When I will need the answers
Of my frantic angry younger self
The answers of the seeker
Appeased by logic, meaning and sense
Appeased by the masculine
An island in my ocean of motherhood,
Nurturing which is self-explanatory

I still do not understand why I would want this
My body a slave to yours
My life a slave to yours
My life which is now slowly become
Scrumptious magnificent fit to breathe
After pain and effort and madness and death
And you would send me back
To those who know better
They would shackle me again
In their bonds of propriety
For you need propriety to raise a child
I need to know
I need my own stronghold
For my life
For child raising
Where we’ll be like us
Where we won’t be like them
And be safe
Don’t you see, we’re both running away from them
But I run much faster without you
So you’ll have to come later
When I can
When we can

I want the world to be safe for both of us
So for now it will just be me
I’ll find the place
And build it
And imagine it
Paint it grow it mold it
And when it’s grown beautiful
I may feel an ache, an emptiness
A remembrance that you haven’t come yet
A remembrance the garden can’t be perfect without a child
And that’s why Eden was so wrong
Forever unblessed, forlorn
From the laughter of children
I will remember then, maybe
The point of the garden.
It would be no real garden
If it were unfit for children
May the whole world become such a place
One day
I want you to come with the blossoms
Of the trees that I planted
But don’t make me sprout
Don’t make me sprout
Before my season

Prayer for Sleep

2007-09-09T08:30:00.000-07:00

I wish I could sleep at night
Like other people do
Rest in the dark
Forego the dread, the doom
But I can’t - I have to stand guard
I can’t go to sleep
I can’t go to Sleep
Like a foreign town
The train has left long ago
Carrying all there but me
Left alone, left behind.
I can’t go to Sleep.
The monsters will come
And the monster is me.

Like one bitten by a vampire
I feel the growth of horror within
Called out by the night
When babies cry and dogs howl
- They know best and better
Dawn and dusk balance our lives
In perfect harmony
But I rage against universal laws
I am prey to a beast
And every night we dance
To death, to exhaustion
All night I fight the angel
And find no forgiveness at dawn

Orgy Material

2007-09-09T08:29:00.000-07:00

Are we a perverted generation ?
Could it be our education?
Can ecstasy stem from monotony
Now or ever?
Can we forego the thrill of discovery
And be content with just someone’s complexity?

Just one person
Fidelity closes the door
Just one desire
Faithfulness suppresses the multitude
But maybe we never wanted
The multitude to start with

Not everyone is orgy material
Not everyone’s lust is quenched after one night
A quick tour, the sound of his moans
Skin texture, dexterity, originality.

We are consumer material
We are consumed without burial
And the demands for emotional safety,
Ever at odds with sexual diversity

We split, wisely, taking consequences to their end
My friends hold me
My lovers only have access to my loins
I crave intimacy
Yet I lay traps every step of the way
To abandon
I foresee trouble, loneliness
We are everything but unique
But only by ourselves.

Old Tears Wanted

2007-09-09T08:27:00.000-07:00

I wonder what happened to the tears I didn't cry
What they turned into, sediments or bones

Put on an explorer's cap, kakhis and a shovel
Now,
Go for a hike inside myself

Will I work my thumbs?
Will I stop in flashy diners with dull strangers
Or vice versa?
Is it long highways,
my inner landscape
Or a tropical jungle, a soft underbelly
A ticklish child, a mountain of broken china
Archetypes of old, ripe valleys untold
Temper tantrums swallowed whole
Like ostrich eggs
A billowy she-bear sleeping in a hole of candy
A swarm of bees from the North Pole?
Am I mountains or caves?
Ocean or tundra?
What is my inner temperature?
Funny I never cared to check
Funny I never tried...
But most of all, where are the tears I never cried?

A school of orphans used to live here long ago
The peasants would say
And when they left, the land dried up

Some would have seen a flock of old maids
Flying south into the sun
White wings stiff with arthritis

Maybe the salt mines to the east harbor them
Or they turned into dry sticks
Travellers make fires with

Maybe they hide in various closets
Forgotten like old socks
Or they dance the limbo
While drinking martinis on the rocks
on a Caribbean-cruising yacht

Have they truly left me?
Or will I discover a humid cave
and glass panes foggy with condensation?

What truly worries me though
is the Dam.
I'm sure they made one
Because now I can't cry at all.
Oh, I get the occasional leak from time to time
In extreme cases of torture, raw onions and soaps
But I lost my cry-baby persona in the bathwater

La Lutte et moi

2007-09-09T08:26:00.000-07:00

Aujourd’hui j’ai encore le coeur pur,
je n’ai accepté que les compromis de temps pour la peine.
Je n’ai pensé qu’à mon désir,
je n’ai jamais rien vendu.
Et comme il fallait que je respire
Finalement je n’ai rien perdu

Aussi loin que je me souvienne,
tout n’a été qu’une Lutte feutrée,
qui ne disait jamais son nom
et dont les ongles étaient empoisonnés.
Elle ne souriait jamais, cette lutte,
elle n’a menti qu’au début,
silencieuse mais en garde.
Rapide, violente, méchante
Aimante, une ange déguisée en yakuza
Qui griffe, estafile, coupe au sang
A l’issue de ma très longue nuit
Je l’ai prise dans mes bras
Et elle s’est enfuie

Cela fait si longtemps,
je ne sais que faire sans elle
maintenant qu’elle s’estompe.
Elle m’a faite d’acier partiel,
elle a partagé tous mes rêves,
et aujourd’hui mes rêves ne savent plus qui ils sont.
Je les ai plantés et ils dorment repus,
fertile et aimants.

La guerrière est désoeuvrée,
La jeune fille d’acier a rouillé
la quête n’est plus où je suis,
alors que je suis venue à sa rencontre.
Que me reste-t-il?

Gimme some

2007-09-09T08:25:00.000-07:00

Gimme som’ing, som’ing
Gimme some, man, come on
Gimme it, gimme some

You got it, you got it now
You’re such a closed bundle of warmth
Hair and toes
You’re sleeping
You’re more consistent
You’re shallow
You’re silent
A dense quality wraps you

I want some, oh won’t you gimme some
I want the thrill I want the pill
I want the void
I want it, I deserve it

There was never any question
You never withheld it before
I want the deep dark reptile
I want the primal brain to take over
My eyes slits, my breath sibilant
Cold blood in my veins
Coiled creepy curled
On hot stone walls
For I am lazy
I am a curse
I am sleepy;

I would guard delicate Sleep
Shelter her from intruders
Wrap around her tight
Or apply her on my scales like slick oil
The consistency of mud or custard
I would bask in her
A slack coppery serpent
Jaw open wide, teeth glistening
Eyes open but unseeing
The tremor of sleep
Forgiveness that won’t come

Don't touch my shadow

2007-09-09T08:22:00.000-07:00

Whatever you do
Don't touch my shadow

Stay as far as you can't touch it
You can't touch me by surprise
I am a Brahman to you

The shadow is the fringe
The last irrepressible expression
The light void of colors

Don't walk through it
Don't step in it
Don't let yourself join it
Don't touch my shadow

I'll start as if you'd walked over my grave
Wherever it may be
My ears will whistle
And I'll blink upside down
Shivering and stabbed
Don't touch my shadow

And at night when all shadows merge
Fragments of bodies can yet be cast
Grotesquely disfigured,
Leaping like living flames
And so the warning remains -
Spread far and wide

Don’t touch my shadow
Breathe your own air
Unless you bring me the ambrosia of old
Unless you offer peace and play
Unless you flow to me
In perfect tenderness
You must stand by yourselves
Facing the West in you
As must all astral bodies

Don't offer me the grey where all can mingle
The sweat of dirty auras
The lonely dream lacerated by many
The livid souls starved for color
Find stark contrast, the edge of a cliff
And unforgiving light
Stay away, don't touch, don't nudge
Don't you dare scare me into shrinking

So I'm hard on the inside
hard and pure it is now said
After wearing rawness on my sleeve for years
A suit of pain and cries for all to see
I put away childish hooks and tricks
Away for keen eyes to perceive
I am now too hard - but where were you for years?
I lack cuteness and frailty
Such feminine qualities
Your warped reasonings would have me believe I am a man
Yet I always meet stronger than me
And strive yet again
Pain was now far behind
And I rejoiced, thinking I'd finally meet the normal people
But it seems I went way past the line
Early or late, I'll never know
Maybe just timeless, timestill

The Cross-Over. A tale of AIDS and desperation

2007-09-09T08:19:00.000-07:00

It is night.

The man is sleeping.

As he slowly breathes
His diseased blood
Calmly steadily
Inexorably
Pervades his body ever more deeply
Day and night in rest or action
It won’t let go
It progresses.
But for the time being
He is oblivious
He is
Peaceful
The faint moonlight is calmly set
In the sleeper.

Oh but the woman
The woman who is mad with grief
She hovers above the quiet scene
Her crazy eyes whirlpool
And she sways and gasps and shakes.
In her hand, a knife.
A Knife.

She can’t stand it anymore
The malady within him
The shadow is so present
She cannot think of them apart
Not anymore
And that nightly silence
When her mind takes over
Billows forth avalanches of thoughts
And heart-splitting fracas she - must - keep inside.
She can’t disturb his sleep
But the roar is deafening
If she breathed at all
It would all come out
So she doesn’t breathe out
She blabbers
And sucks air in.

Tonight the pain is twisting her arm;
In her hand, a Knife.
And there she stands above his inert shape
A lunatic suicidal succubus.
Is there any answer come from the blade?

No….

It just answered a more ancient urge,
Now forgotten…
Now… what…?
How came she to be standing
Above the man she adores, at night
Wielding a knife
And the pain he caused her pouring out.

A detached part of her muses
How can my waves of despair not disturb the night?
She prays for an earthquake
To match and acknowledge her inner destruction
She sways in expectation…

Nothing happens.
It is only a human sized tragedy
His size, her size
And theirs to deal with
The cosmos doesn’t heed their smallness.

The man abruptly wakes to a sharp pain
In his arm
She is staring at the wound
In his arm
As innocent looking-poisoned blood gushes out.
Then,
He notices a twin wound on her palm
The hand of the desperate criminal
He sees her fascination
And how both cuts seem
To attract each other
As lips would join
And be sealed.

Remèdes à l'amour

2007-09-09T08:17:00.000-07:00

1 ) Saisir au vol un défaut de l’être aimé
L’esquisse d’un caractère déplaisant
L’ombre portée, le revers d’une exquise qualité
Insoupçonnable, certes - et cependant inévitable
Mettez donc à profit quelque absence inexplicable
- En dernier recours, inventez-en.
Puis fixez-y une pompe à haute capacité
Et fermement, sans états d’ame - soufflez.
Astreignez-vous, nuit et jour, à faire pencher la balance
L’entreprise trouvera des avantages immenses
A faire appel à une robuste mauvaise foi
Une généreuse dose de ridicule et un esprit étroit.

2 ) Une autre suggestion - le contact continu
Bien que susceptible dans un premier temps
D’enflammer des passions malvenues,
Des visites répétées, chastes et sans malentendu
D’apres un mécanisme pavlovien rendent indifférent
Une fois le pli pris fermement.
Un bémol à cette methode cependant;
Chez certains sujets, le contact constant
Ne provoque qu’une aggravation du sentiment
Sans que des lustres puissent y remedier.

Et bien sur, le corollaire immensurable de la présence
Une vieille méthode éprouvée - l’absence...

Tongues of Fire

2007-09-09T08:13:00.000-07:00

There is a tongue of fire in me
Borne by the sun
A lick from a sleepy golden Feline
To teach me to love

Look my beloved
We may not be fit for this world

But oh,
are we fit for life!

Life as fitting as water as I swim
It welcomes my shape, all encompassing
Sparkling, all-giving, dancing
I delve underwater, a part of life herself
I am not alienated anymore
I relish the liquid soft kiss, the slow flight
And the weightlessness

You didn’t find answers in your long journeys
But you traveled with your eyes closed
That none could pry open
But it’s alright, come to the ocean with me
Come be a part of life
Come to the music and fly
I’ve missed your spirit on my moonlit Sabbaths

I want my body to be soft and tender
Curvaceous and bathed in jasmine
Sandalwood and magnolia…
But what do you know, it melts
As soon as you touch it
Through heat, emotion, light
It melts irretrievably
I am amazed
I want my body the way it is
I want our limbs entwined
I want the sleep of children
You are so beautiful
I am ever grateful for life
In you
For greedy, demanding, moving life
Breathed into you
That comes filtered out by your essence
The unique way you move, speak, laugh
I want your body because it is intensely you
I want to melt you with my touch
I want you in my arms trembling with awe
Yet holding me so tight all memory is obliterated
My breath is cut short -

To Bruno

2007-09-09T08:12:00.000-07:00

How dare you love me so well
when no one else does?
And you’re not even my lover
Opening avenues of possibility
To best you yet
But no one ever came close to you
in all those years
The intensity was yours alone
Yet you never were my lover…
Your existence molded my hopes and expectations
My lover would be like you, only slightly better
In ways I had yet to identify…

Then magic dwindled
And I turned against your false hopes
No spell caster ever landed at my door
It was you against the world
The fool on the hill
And I didn’t know who to choose
Even after loneliness was a thing acquired and done
I had been burned and carved by beauty
Never a guest on your hill
Left to wander
And never see humans as I should.

Slasher Dream

2007-09-09T08:10:00.000-07:00

Last night
I dreamt I was in love with you.

Now, I would never say
"This is just a dream".

Unfortunately
I know better.

What holds me together
Is a great tarred fabric
And it ripped

The dream sliced through it

What must I admit to?
Time and again this love comes to me
Seven spices to my tongue
Camphor and opium to my senses
A beautiful child
Wants to merge with me
Wants to stay in my arms
Promises nothing but beauty
And indeed, love itself is not
To be feared
To be denied
Love is awesome and strong by itself
If we let it be…

… Could we just feed it once in a while?
I would be content if I could just
Put you to the side
You wouldn’t speak
Or move.
I would make you innocuous.
The love that comes attached to you
Is too dangerous
I’d prefer a photograph
A trinket, a bauble
And certainly not a dream
A taunt, a traitor to my own self
That uses my emotions against me
In my own inviolate mind.
I feel like Claudius
Pierced to light by a stratagem
Bearing the stamp of truth.

Fine, then.
I sit down and yield.
My throat is yours to tear
What shall be done?
Speak, immanent photograph
Instruct me, tyrant child.
I shall be yours then
Forever more
And then some

Spiderweb Fortresses

2007-09-09T08:03:00.000-07:00

Could you ever doubt my love for you?

I lulled you to sleep
I was there in times of sickness and laughter
I had your back always
And I retreated from sex affairs where I didn’t belong
I supported you and I watched you, in awe
But now my love is poisoned
Trust is gone and I am suffocating
Jealousy has pervaded my love
A violent shark
Borne by insecurity
The fact you conveyed
That I wasn’t good enough
So now I hurt

I have no anesthetics
To get me through while you are being extracted
Wrenched away from me
Or maybe it’s my self-esteem
My carefree and happy love
Or this chunk of me that will stay with you
Ever
Withered and starved

I may blow up at you
Which would mean I am still putting energy into you
That I am trying to rescue us still
And you’ll probably call me hysterical
And walk away, slightly embarrassed
Or I may remain cold, dead
Hoping for your touch to thaw me
But I know you have no interest in coldness
And you will let yourself be carried away
Towards fiery types
Who will give you the worship you crave
As I used to.

I wished pearls for you
The thinnest of silks
The tastiest of fruits
My Persian prince
I wished the beauties of the world for you
As a pale match for yours.

The instant I saw you
My defenses were spiderweb fortresses
In the face of your beauty
My love was joy
My love was spontaneity
I never asked for more than I could get
I never begrudged you boys
Our natural habitat
It was so easy to love you
To cherish you
Because you loved me too
And I thought we could take on the world
I thought we were invincible

I wished the most beautiful princes for you
All your needs attended to
By smitten lovers
But you bury yourself in acrid dark rooms
In the embraces of old men
Who pay you in alcohol
Daddy Daddy get me another drink
You said once you felt soiled and tainted
And then you grew to like it
What can I do
My wishes for you so obviously off tune
Off key
Grotesquely inappropriate
Do I live in the wrong Fairyland?
I have writhed in pain for many weeks now
I have become inadequate
And the pain is an agony
Did I so wrongly assess my entitlement?
I just feel like throwing up all the time
All the time when I think about you
Which is all the time
When before, I used to think of light and laughter

Oh my love
My confidante
You have betrayed me
Betrayed/Me
And I am stunned
I can’t comprehend
And simultaneously I look for excuses
Oh, killing hope is a merciless thing
Do I have a choice
I have been reduced to a moan
A twist of searing pain
I need rebound away from you
Goddess forgive me
I feel worse than dead
I have been in agony for 12 weeks,
It has to stop
I can’t bear it anymore.

The only Greek sin

2007-09-09T08:02:00.000-07:00

My lover is the man in the iron cage
Soft tendrils of a flower
That his father the nurturer
His father the batterer
Grew implacably out of rage
In him for ever to smother
My lover is the man who embraces himself
Best and only

I provided water
I provided shelter
And I was the mirror
I thought the best way for you to love me
Was to be included in you

I may die of you
Your irises are a milky white
I’d never noticed before

Seven years cursed at a time
Am I to bring the Gods’ wrath on you?
The pitiful echo of my watch
Ever renewed, struck by beauty
When unrequited love was
The only Greek sin
And this reflection in you

Echo drowned in the river
The day Narcissus ran away
Stuttering nymph, Greek Ophelia
She’d lost her mother to the river
She’d lost her lover to a flower
The sound is becoming to water

Pronouns hesitated between us
He saw only himself in my eyes
His soul reflected only in shards of glass

The worst of all is that he thinks he’s normal
When I see the monster
The terrifyingly deadly heartbreaking monster

But I still love him
And I still see his beauty
‘Tis a deadly oxymoron
The very crux of my fascination
I can’t
He is devoid of feelings, you see

Child of Bohemia, roaming all the paths
I beg you not to trample me anymore
You threw sand in my eyes
Gipsy feet and master of ties
Then you give me poisonous flowers
The pollens paint scars on my skin
I stray - I stay away from your parallel ways
But you are my Samarkand
One is the music, one the dancer, or the band
I can’t tell us away
I want you always insane clockwork

Rupture me from you now
Give me the grace to do it
All pride is lost
All necks have bent
Yesterday’s and the year before’s
All tears were shed

The fey Persian Prince

2007-09-09T07:59:00.000-07:00

I’ve lost you entirely, irredeemably
I’ve misplaced the Persian Prince of tales

Does this smack of carelessness
Of indifference, or cautiousness?

I know I have forfeited your beauty
And I shall never find its like again
For this has happened to me before.

The alien, exquisite calligraphy of faces
Banned by curses more violent than strangers’
The strength patterns on my candle are melting
Fey lines for Aydeen, lover of the gay man
I have danced in clearings, led by fairies
Where laws are more ancient than good and evil
I correctly identify changelings and imps
Not least of all in myself
The blood in my veins is tinged with silver
And you know where to find my dwelling below the stones
I am present in the air, superfluous as music
But I provoked love, always a dangerous thing
In creatures devoid of heart and laws.

Recognizing my breach of etiquette
I apologized promptly and pirouetted my way out
Very little torture was necessary
Very little silver was shed
So I left the Aryan fairy, long-limbed and lithe
A smoker of incense and a weaver of purple intricacies
Many nights I watched his peaceful face and cradled his velvet soft head
I straddled his body and kneaded his flesh
Preparing for the end
Violence is acceptable to fairies, and compassion boring

I was swift and precise
I am gifted and alive
I would have given my life for you
I had to indulge in the betrayal of my own faith
And loose belief in my own words

But we laugh at promises and human belief in continuity
You have taught me flightiness and flicker
And you have taught me well
The curse is on you already
I have let Time loose on you
And I have let your weakness accomplish its fate

A stormy night, long from now, with fiercely howling winds
You may search out my dwelling
But if you have a human heart I will laugh at you
And erase the path
Or I may send you on the road of a thousand voices
To become lost and drown and aware in turn
For my power has drawn on the Lord of the Undeworld
A patron of depths unknown to you
And you shall not step that I’ll have set the ground beneath your feet

And meet strange and stainless creatures
Of fierce manes, plutonic stares, entirely devoid of mercy and compassion
No part of you will ever be found or remembered
Because you are now fading, which is unfit for a prince
You shall retreat to fairies’ flimsy memories

I alone will bear witness of your past glory
But I won’t share it – you did nothing epic
You will beg for scraps I won’t volunteer
And generally won’t keep you alive
I am wise and I am unsuspectably strong
You are despondent, and I was your swan’s song
I took the last of your beauty in
And as much as you were a vampire
I remained alive because I never partook in betrayal

Coffee Date

2007-09-09T07:58:00.002-07:00

I know that one day
Maybe years from now
We will sit for a cup of coffee
Suddenly nostalgic for times past
Because, whether we’ll want it or not
They will end that day.
Already I can speak of much joy
Of exhilaration and complicity
As well as a lot of pain you didn’t think necessary
To not inflict upon me
But by the time we sit down for that coffee
The wheel will have turned
And I will be the one who brings things to a halt.
I will be the one breaking up with you
That day
Maybe because you will have siphoned all my strength
Maybe because the magic extra inch of my love for you
Will be trusted to someone else’s care
Someone more appropriate my friends will say
Someone readier I could say, lying to myself
Someone who loves you He would say
Someone who’s taking you away from me, you’ll say silently
And we’ll all be right
Even me

‘Cause in the end I will be taken away from you
If you don’t keep me
I will kidnap myself if I have to
In an act of radical sanity.
You know that.
After numerous meetings with myself
I have come to the conclusion that I can’t unlove you
My computer just underlined that word in red
It agrees with me apparently
But the magic inch will be diverted from you
You know that don’t you?
You are losing me daily with your reticence
I am not expecting sexual intercourse from you
Just magic.

However, today, you are still the sun to me
And I can’t really believe that coffee date will come.
Neither of us even likes coffee…
But I know it will.

Aideen ; Irish lover of the fairy man

2007-09-09T07:58:00.001-07:00

How I long for you now,
Now that I see the boundaries fade and topple
I am growing tired of a differentiation that won’t include me
It is a mystery, how was I allowed to love you so
And know I’d never get that kind of love from you
But some things don’t change
And I’ll always love music

Garden on Avenue B

2007-09-09T07:54:00.000-07:00

I see their windows, heavily barred
Not even to keep others out
But to keep themselves in.

Here their lizards are cockroaches
The ultimate nuclear survivors
Walking is an every instant negociation
And tar has smothered the land

But I stepped into a garden today
A garden of refuse grown wild
Or maybe tamed by eccentric hands
That tend to more joyous needs

There were paths and there was mud
An entrelacs of ponds with goldfish and turtles
Water murmuring down
Dingy wooden benches everywhere
For the most likely gatherings
And children on stilts
Children jumping on a discarded mattress
Springs still hardy

There was an old man with long white hair
And Navajo-style clothes
Interviewed by young hip filmmakers

And in a corner, a semblance of order
Personal squares left to their owners’ fancy
Almost ripes tomatoes, flowers or nettles

La passante

2007-09-09T07:53:00.000-07:00

Et là et là j’y suis allé aussi
Et même si j’y étais pas c’est tout comme
J’ai tout vu j’te dis, au bras de la nuit
Ceux qu’elle aime et ceux qu’elle assomme

J’ai vu les clochards célestes dans le ruisseau
Leurs femmes peintes dans le caniveau
J’ai vu les loups, les requins, les badauds
Les funambules et ceux qui encore aiment trop

J’ai vu toutes les vapeurs déletères
Les vapeurs somnifères et mortifères
Les pilules sans noms, les poudres précises
L’alcool brouillon qui de couleurs se déguise

Il y avait des boissons folles
Qui te ligotaient les sens
Il y avait des substances sans scrupules
Qui s’installaient dans ton essence

Mais il y avait la musique aussi, l’âme éclatante
La recherche absolue de la note plus aimante

La beauté du geste désincarné
Le souffle coupé par un baiser volé
La grâce qui se découvre un instant
La tendresse du geste d’un amant

Passée la minuit, dans la foule serrée
Ils étaient tous aussi seuls que moi
Peut-être est-ce cela le cadeau insensé
De pouvoir enfin perdre conscience de soi

Mes yeux m’ont bouffé le corps
Silencieuse et cachée, j’observais encore
Ouvreuse des matins blêmes et méchants
Je cachais nos nuits aux passants

Mais tu vois, je suis passée sans rien dire
Sans rien prendre, sans toucher, sans médire

Personne là-bas ne se souvient de moi
J’ai glissé comme un fantôme
Je n’ai jamais touché les boissons
Les fumées, ou les hommes

Alors ils ne m’aiment pas
Ils se méfient de moi
Ils ne veulent que la perte des sens
Je ne leur offre que cruelle conscience

A quoi ça sert alors de s’être gardée pure
Spectatrice impudique et voyeuse
Ils croient que je ricane, lointaine et dure
Ils croient que je me moque d’eux
30/07/2004 ?

Hurleurs

2007-09-09T07:52:00.002-07:00

Les bals musette de Pigalle
Crasse fumée des guinguettes
le vin de guingois, mes mains dans tes cheveux
Autour les hommes flous qui râlent
Au-dessus les pavés luisent d'eau sale
sous ma tête renversée les pierres de taille

Les mauvais garçons se terrent
Avec leurs femmes à la peau livide
il fait humide dans vos caveaux
et vos verres d’or liquide
il fait obscur sous les ponts
où vous surprennent les bateaux
les chauve-souris des balcons
les gargouilles des absides

la ville veut danser avec vous enfants de jeunesse
elle rassemble dans ses mains ses jupons de pavés
se fait lascive pour mieux vous enserrer
vous susurre d’incohérentes promesses
elle vous consacre ses nuits confuses
vous enlace, dévorante muse

Ravalée avec mépris
des brillants masquent ses replis
la pénombre mystérieuse ses pieds
et moi
Qu’importe, c’est la fille de joie
votre mère unique
elle vous offre son ventre
autel de vos ivresses mystiques

beauté férale
teint vitreux
vous êtes une race nouvelle
de tous bords vous êtes teintés de vert
le lichen urbain
au cœur du noir hésitant
gracieux osseux de vos corps drapés
sybarites délicats
Par touches lucioles de vin
le sombre velours carmin
intoxicants
auquels vous accordez vos plus beaux baisers
et vos noces les plus blanches

la pierre vibrante de la chaleur
qui vous fuit
touche, touche, soleil de nuit
pose ta main sens la force qui irradie
des pauvres mendiants de l’amour

les galoches claquent sur les murs
ils crient ils s’en vont
ils emportent l’accordéon
courir vers le ciel du matin pur
qui vous nimbe de rose et d’or
malgré la fatigue de vos corps
malgré vos émanations de sulfure

Nightly Prowling

2007-09-09T07:52:00.001-07:00

All this prowling
Those I meet nightly
And I,
We seem to float
Maybe it is only our spirits
That meet while our bodies
Stay in the land of light
Tensely asleep.
The air is forgiving
In starlight,
We all challenge
The night.

You all are displayed as who I was, who I am
And who I will be,
But at night I am flying Mercury
And I love to brush past you
You become a part of my dance
Of my intoxication
Of my trance
‘Cause wherever there will be light
There will be me.
‘Tis when concrete sounds of earth
Lights turn to luminescent oyster flesh
‘Tis when ghosts come before me
Speaking of loss and cruelty
Yet it is me at your unknown door
That assumes the guise of an entire city

Where art thou my love
You have no mercy
I seek you relentlessly
Once again the cold stones
Once again I work up a momentum
Of speed, I cannot stop
Skulking, prowling
You are an improbable forgiveness
And the promise of sleep
I have met insomnia
Does she pursue me
Into pursuing you?
And I know you are also an illusion
Of beauty of music
Yet illusions talk
The search is relentless
How can I sleep when I might
Meet you?
But I don’t see their faces
I am oblivious to all
And I think
Maybe
Even to you

Having crisscrossed our cities so many times
I gather all the lines and pull
As a drawstring purse
And there it is, a neat bundle
There may still be some loose ends
But the throbbing heart still feels dense in my hand
Balance has been firmly planted
Finite, completed, mapped in and out
Unwavering distances and particulars
Precisely noted rehearsed and used
Just in time.

25.10.2004 ?

City broken

2007-09-09T07:51:00.000-07:00

multitude of squares of people

I pray my dreams to yield images of him

The city breaks into you

Breaks you in, who’s the burglar

we have been piled up and

had to learn to coexist with grace

you will touch me and I’ll never know you

you are all cardboard images to me

I am city broken, know the signs

turn you in if you don’t

Don’t get lost don’t show weakness

I know where my river runs

though I don’t know where it runs to…

I cut short the paths of men

who think they have control over you

but you grow

you sprout extensions of refuse

Oh, I am city broken all right

I wish for your complexion

and though I wish to think of you

I am fascinated by my reflection

and the predatory reflexes I grew

When I was city-broken

January 15 2002

The craft of theater

2007-09-09T07:50:00.000-07:00

As we stand backstage in the rags of our trade
Princes’ costumes sweep whispers in the merciful darkness.
A few feet away,
in the harsh light,
dust rises heavenward
While we hold our breath, short, measured pounding
Hidden from all life,
real or manufactured
Awaiting the cue that will set us in motion
Fill us with words we have appropriated,
Borrowed
and that own us now with steel certainty.
I see your figures, bolted and sharp with purpose
Ours is a world of cardboard, thread
Wooden shafts and bits of refuse
We don splendidly.
And we desperately want “them” to believe
That our tears are real – and well they may be.
See confusion in their eyes as they can’t tell us apart
The embracing spirit that steals our likeness
In our private intercourse.
But suddenly – a laugh, a cigarette, a Styrofoam cup
Anachronistic details that startle you.
Our doppleganger dissolves for the beholder

Sevilla

2007-09-09T07:48:00.000-07:00

Small majesties
With shiny immaculate shoes
Among the Alcazar palm trees
Jasmine orange trees and doves
Their long glossy tresses a reminder
Of distant Moorish blood
The miracle of water trickles
everywhere
Orange trees pregnant with heavy clusters
Of flesh warm fruit
Bend under those round orbs
Patos with bright orange palmed feet
Nasally demand sustenance
Varnished tiles kiss fevered skin
And one can almost remember the murmurs
Of drape-like robes
Brushing intricate floors of baked clay.
Within these enclosed gardens
A vision of Eden
I see turbaned philosophers
Strolling among doves and stars
Enjoying the sophisticate alchemy
Of merciless heat and cool shaded stones
Of a bench of painted clay
And spicy odorous tea
The warm wind is a caress
The heavy silk robes tenderness
And friendship and embrace
And a promise for the world to hold
And yet forget
Among sweaty rubicond tourists
Who goggle and oogle in wrinkled shorts
I close my eyes in the scent and sounds
That you once knew
Yours is the utterness of civilization
The ultimate tear expressed from beauty
The essence of Paradise at dusk
Such a potent drop of pure amber and myrrh
Left for us to partake
I wish to be gathered in your robes
Of camphor and musk
Adorned in jewelry from far away Orient
Or desert burnished plates of gold
Somehow the brutality of the weather
Dictated rules for life
That need not be reinvented
Humankind bowed and
Worshipped well sun and night and rain
The heirs of jews, muslims and christians
Meld with the narrow and bright architecture
Of Seville
The feat of creation is done
And will be transmitted
Freely given, like water for
A desert-parched and weary traveler
The softness, pride and violent beauty
Of centuries past course through all here
Even guests
And why should it not?
The wisdom of long ago
Was to grow a city, a garden
And an olive tree
To please the fiery gods of the land
Quick to burn, but generous of love
And tenderness
There is not much to disrespect
In their plans and cabbalistic calculations
And so their lives and philosophies
Endure
Through their city

Potomaniac. Waterholic.

2007-09-09T07:47:00.000-07:00

Watching Bernie drink
Water
Was akin to watching someone
Masturbate to orgasm
And…
Or….
Commit suicide.

Neither act being public
Neither act anything
But
Intensely Personal
Measure
My unease

Bernie was dissolving herself
Salt in water
The same salts that held her mind
Her thought processes
Her uniqueness
Together
Her muscles
Her heart strings
For the heart is a muscle
And the brain is a fireworks
Of electrolytes
Which she ruthlessly dampened
Soaked
And sank
Her heart and brain failed
And were brought back
4 times
4 times
4 times
4 times
For a very unusual type of drowning
For a very slow and inconspicuous suicide
The killer is herself
Anywhere
With water
Coronel Mustard
Greedily and daintily drinking
Water
A true Aquarian
Pouring 20 liters of water
Down her throat
A day
And peeing
200 times a day
To ecstasy
A true Water Bearer and Pourer
Of quirks
And puzzling conundrums
One does not take water
Away
From another human being
Does one?
One gives water to a fallen foe
One does not monitor
The gulps, the mouthfuls
Or the planetful of helpful strangers
Who will easily give one
Water
Living alcohol -or drug- free
Is
A goddam possibility
Living water-free
Is
Non-sensical
Laughable
Meaningless
However, the water
you pour down your throat
My friend
Is blurring you away
One drop at a time

2007

Ghosts - The Haunting

2007-09-09T07:46:00.001-07:00

Ghosts – The Haunting

For those of us who feel more comfortable around ghosts
Their delicate touch
Their innocuous chatter…
For in a sense we all sleep.

Wouldn’t you dance on the winds
oblivious to the pain
even if the pain were your only reason for being
whatever you are now…?

God has forsaken you and all.
What scares us so from looking into the faces of the dead?
The extreme sensitivity that puts us at risk in the world
Channeler of spirits
Of unbearably raw wounds

Will you let the million spirits
The spirits of children, playful and unaware of their plight
Those who have no memory and no future
The wise old spirits who chose to stay by our sides,
those who wouldn’t be satisfied by the heavenly ether
Will we let their voices reach us till they become a clamour?

Which is most unbearable
The voice of old truth we learned to forget
Or absolute silence?

I feel comfortable with the dead
Apart from a certain elation of alienation
Our planes are so distinct
Only the very lost will want to hurt you
But in many ways they were us
We are they
Metaphysical blueprints of past lives
Bequeathed to us
Bewildered and in pain.

Why Why ??

But they seem unconcerned by reason
They sway and sing and sing
While I stand beneath them
Wringing my hands for sadness
That pain is so manifold
That pain is a restless hunter
Of souls, be they clothed in flesh or in light.

Why do we do this?
Why do we bring forth such pain
To the living
To the dead
Does it ever stop?

The earth may sustain us stubbornly
But I flinch and I am dizzy and blinded
Peals of laughter from you
What consciousness do you have of your loneliness?
Or, for that matter, what awareness have we of ours?

Maybe we are the spirits in your world
And you pity us for our short-sightedness
Our awake and dream states are so hermetic to one another
They sometimes let wisps of thoughts float through

Are we your ghosts as they are our dreams?

I used to wonder where the wind came from
Maybe you initiated it playfully one day
You clothed in it
And ever since it hasn’t been able to rest
It blows over the world over and over
With you in its wake
Sometimes it breathes down to a shiver, a ripple
Then it picks momentum and power
And roars and screams and tears.
But why?
I ask why again
And you laugh
The patterns of the wind we may able to understand
When we can hear your songs clearly
When we are strong enough to embrace you
When we aren’t scared anymore.

For Dora

2007-09-09T07:45:00.001-07:00

For Dora
On why Children become Goths

I welcome the painful children
Sleek and sulking.
They will come and sit
Their eyes dead and bored

And they will invariably brighten
When they see the vampire
Within my walls.
The vampire has been their companion
As it has been mine.
How sad to see the path of pain
Ever repeated
And the shelter we have chosen
In desperation
How symptomatic of our condition.

I know the truth and depth
Of their pain
It doesn’t make mine worse
Nor more acceptable.

A furtive acknowledgement
Is all I’ll give them
In spite of their eagerness and despair
I am busy learning and looking good
If you please
None of us will escape its personal monster
Anyway.

What is this curse we have chosen
Over those which crucified us?
Are all lost children lured
To the Vampire’s dwelling?
The magical fanged piper…

Adolescence

2007-09-09T07:40:00.000-07:00

Adolescence
November 15 2004

Most of all I remember the hunger
The craving for what I knew all along wasn’t blood
Dress in cloaks of need
Dyed in contempt
I will scare people with the extent of my need
None but a mother can give as much
- Or take as much -
I sealed myself shut
So no one would hear
The howling winds of hunger
In the vacuum that was me
I took exquisite pains
To function seamlessly
To feed delicately
When really I needed to gorge
On them
To consume them entirely
To be other than me
And have company inside

I think I was crazed with need
And I called it -aptly -
The Vampire
In curlicues of cruelty
Violence, swiftness, fulfillment
Exhilaration
Not stepping on eggshells
With clogs
And never ever showing anything;
… People would run from me in drones!
It would be the Great Diaspora
Of our Ice Age
They would create camps for refugees
The nuclear space left around me
By the impact
Of what was inside of me
A definition by default
And utter silence
- Made deaf y’all -
I pictured my inner grenades
With bizarre shapes of death

I remember fantasizing for years
About hugs
As if they were amputated limbs
Oh, what would I have done
For an embrace
The right quality
The right blood
The right warmth
Love can’t be ordered
I’ll command what I can
Play with power if it feeds me
For eat I must
I’ll scavenge what I can
I think I even went for the kill sometimes
Yeah, sometimes I killed
But I don’t regret it
They would have hurt me
They wanted something from me
And I got it from them instead
All is fair in love…
I am my own person.

Oh I was such a baby predator
Dangerous because motherless
Do motherless beasts survive in the wild
Or do they bring the wild with them
Wherever they go?

Most of the times I was delicate
Careful of the feelings of others
From being trampled on myself daily
But sometimes the pressure would split bursts in me
And I’d lash out
I think all my youth was an exercise in endurance
Watching a very precarious balance in myself
Nothing was not exhausting.

I wonder now whether tears would have helped
But there is no end to tears
No dykes or dams
Tears are too fluid
Too wet
Hardened feelings, on the other hand
Can be broken into chunks
Silexes
Contained, stored…
As it is tears don’t come easy.

The Vampire is the name
For the need I wouldn’t name
And could not wish away
A self taught cohabitation