Tuesday, May 11, 2010


I know you
they call you the assassin
an assassin of character
you've judged my primordial essence
felt my thighs saddled around your waist
seen my blossoming womb burst
because you've filled it.
you load your weapons and
patiently watch me
camouflaged with war paint collected from previous victims
blood, sweat, semen
thinking you hide from my Medusa eyes.
you are an Apache perched and awaiting
a warrior precariously hanging out the back seat of an explorer.
I am a trembling bull
the wolf mother with swollen teats
you've tasted the products of my milk,
my nations.

I come to you
washed and adorned
you touch my naked arms
and stained mouth.
You wait for fear
yet none comes.

you tear me apart

ripping off my seven layers
your fingers in my hair
taking away my jewelry
sacred turquoise and living amber.
I smell like birth.
Against a meat cleaver you hang me
I pass slowly
but unbeknownst to you
in my death I live.

I am of every name
the pearls of Aphrodite, Parvarti, Mary Magdalene and her band of whores in the streets
even your moaning mother wrinkled and grey,
the pagan Inanna, the women of the rent tent,
girls with naieve eyes,
a god called She
( I am woman )

Saturday, May 8, 2010

One night stands last a month then End.

I see myself underneath you, a fiery yet yielding force. It turns raw where I end and you begin. Things slip away from me when I'm in this place, but even here I know I should have stayed saying no. That I'd lose some small piece of me, would stayed tucked in your bed, wrapped around your cock.

You visit me at work and bring a friend. We pretend we don't know each other. I ignore you making eyes at him. He has the gift of gab, tries to woe me and I humor him. Somehow I finagle $90 out of you and get away with only showing my tits. Afterwards you take me home and fuck. I can tell by the way you touch me that your jealous. It goes on and on and on. I want to sleep. I know you won't come but your positive it will happen. Alcohol has flooded your senses. In the morning I rub your head letting your hair curl around my fingers. You awaken with a smile, a brand new man. Days later you admit it was a sort of subconscious challenge, you never let me know if I passed but promised it would never happen again.

Because being around you makes me feel domestic I compile a "things to do" list which consists of baking cookies, having breakfast ready when you wake, finding more positive ways to speak, teaching you how to be gentle to me and getting a penis casting kit.

We made love twice, once on top, once on bottom. Made love in the sun, the first time you've seen my body. You admit your age, face turned away from me. It makes me hot. You take me to lunch, buy a sail boat, drop me off at home.

The boat has a romantic name, you say, like me. You show me the original woodwork. I tell you lavender is good for keeping away mold. Above the bed is open air and stars. Hardware knocks against the boat's masts making the Marina sound like a Buddhist Monastery. Comparatively our moans are soft and tender. And ever since you rocked me against your fingers I've been a walking mermaid.

The next day you call, tell me you want to walk my dog with me. You treat me to dinner, but you're mean and aloof. I try, but for the life of me, I can't figure out what you want from me. You take me home, but in the car you won't kiss me goodbye, its just how you feel.

I remember you said, just looking at my face makes you hard, and concluded that I must be in the right business.
I said, maybe I'm just in the right bed.
Silence, is when I realized fifteen years my senior you'll always be afraid.

Monday, April 19, 2010

Easter 2010

He said it was for nostolgia. Alone on a rainy Easter Sunday. Once he had been a regular, but in the 90’s there were more men in the hallways that wanted to suck your cock then look at naked women. In my mind I pictured them as small yet wirey blonde boys with blue baby doll eyes. Stooped against the black walls attentive packages in neon bike shorts. Maybe thats too 80's?
That has changed. Now it seems there are only men who stare absent mindedly, who don’t speak English, but definitely want to look at naked women as opposed to sucking you off. Unfortunatley they don't seem to want to pay.
I was glad he had returned and told him so. He slipped in money without me even asking. So I took off my clothes but too fast.
He said “I want you to touch yourself”
I told him that was more, and he gave more.
He said “Take off your glasses”
And I did
He said “come closer”
And I did
He said “No, come closer” and wiggled his finger
And I did
My fingers were shoved into the folds of myself. Yet he took his time and stared into the contours of my face and the convex of my eyes. He was reading my childhood freckles that has returned in the california sun as if they were the lines on my palms. I smiled and gazed back with heavy lids. He opened his mouth wide like he was going to swallow me. His lips quivered then closed. He did it again then again, like he was sucking on my face, the cough drop to his soul. It reminded me of something out of "Kafka on the Shore", a Murakami transedence. At any moment Colenol Sanders would be showing up and offering me the prostitue of my dreams.
He said his cock didn't work anymore. Type two diabetes.
He swallowed my face again. I felt light and like a child. Enveloped in something I can not explain.
The timer buzzed.
He said you have beautiful eyes, invest in contacts.

Monday, April 5, 2010

Work: Sunday 3.27 2:37am

lost for words
slowly they come
and referred to feeling
like a slow heat rising
cupped your hand above your heart
let it fall
shifted on my haunches
wanted to show you my breasts
a fast heat
but only if
were to be the one