Some new offensive things

Reading Whitman's Body Electric 

      while taking a massive shit 

Let me begin by clarifying that I am not 

actually reading Whitman's Body Electric 

while taking a massive shit, but rather I'm parked

at this yellow cafe table imagining

myself sitting half-naked 

in the windowless room 

a few feet off to my left, in tender release.

I write all these imaginings while I coax 
an actual oven, but why 
imagine instead of action?

Because the body can only handle
so much extrication

and with the tandem poetry and propulsions,

the sacred expulsions would be too much.

Outside the windowed doors of the coffeehouse a storm breaks

and the trees burst flowing in unified downbeat, wiry branches interpreting the world in dance,

dancing the universe as a single procession with measured and perfect motion

how boldly their body electric in this lightening storm, still I sit holding,

clenching to the cleave of the clasping and the sweet-fleshed day 

lost in the embrace of love and resistance in own my body electric.

A storm breaks out-

side by side the lovers on the outside patio share a frozen coffee drink

with fingers numbed awkward from the rain and the ice inside the cup

and him with cold fingers only pretends to drink for here swells and jets

his heart because he has loved a woman sacred and that alone

is caffeine enough for his soul.

But oh my body!

Outside a storm and I imagine myself

still clenched in body electric, push

open the doors of the cafe and step outside

into the windwhipping rain with pencil and pages blowing wet,

the limitless limpid jets of hot and enormous, quivering liquid,

blow-white and delirious juice into the sheetflooded intersection,

I sing:
"I am the gate of the body.

 I am the gate of the soul."
Squat and unleash 
my body electric.

5:30 PM-- June 12, 2010

 

My mother's face

My mother's face as she stared

upon her sister's bastard child

was one of pity and desire masked

lightly by a smile hanging crooked,

like a painting hastily hung to cover

the stain on the wallpaper,

but really,

mother just wanted to squeeze

the little bastard girl, embrace

her like a deformed

deaf-blind puppy,

unknowing of her own

three-leggedness.

06/12/10

4:53 AM-June 12, 2010