A
koi fish
throbs in the neck
of your lover.
Did it always live here?
A
blood pulse shifts.
The H2O
through which all
things grow. Showa
and Bekko;
kaleidoscope fish.
A
second
koi circling
they move
in rings.
A
hoop, loop,
vivid vortex.
Do they know one another?
A
snowflake
falls on his eyelashes, his hair
now ice,
A
crown gleams.
A
frost king.
A
July day,
but it is snowing
in your bed. You want
to speak but you’re afraid
you’ll wake the frozen lover.
The blue of his lips
A
stone you want
to collect. Your astonishment
bites you. Every
tip of him
A
crystal
promising.
A
statue. Fairy story. You worry
he might crumble. But
his eyes flood the bed
with green. Blue beams
pass over your
body with famishment. You
never knew hunger was blue.
When he turns to
kiss you it’s
A
black and white
movie. Your life in reels,
He is strobing into you. The
Rat-tat-tat- of the
Projector. Super
16mm. You want to speak but
you are full of him. Each time
he breathes
A
new film loads. In the dark
8inches, 300 feet
of your life unraveling. You
always wanted
to be
A
star. In and out.
Silent magnetic sound. The
gelatin in your mouth melting
under the heat of you,
A
machine. You are
A
reel.
You are
A
wheel.
Perpetual motion. You
are
A
bicycle.
Are you being ridden?
No, you are giving a ride. On
your saddle. Metal
chain slinks over crank. Tube and
rim. You Eat, and eat,
filling to brim.
A
memory invades: your first attempt.
Fifteen. Drunk off of Diet
Coke and peppermint Schnapps.
A
woodshed.
He tastes like wood.
Everything
tastes like
wood
in the shed. The
air, your
nipple. Woodchips
stuck
in your fishnets, you
lick and lick
and
nothing happens. Just
long licks that travel
up and down an
abandoned sawdust road.
Is that
what this film’s about?
— A
quaking in the bed.
Snap back. Black
and white suits you. He is
almost there. Rita
Hayworth worthy stare. Arch
those eyebrows. You’re in
the pond again.
A
Koi fish slips
in and out
of your mouth.
You’re
A
fur oiled seal,
glide
through cold mud ocean now.
Wearing
A
bib
of bubbles. Blink.
You recognize this film.
you know how
it ends.
A
School of herring
shoaling into you. The
onrush of silver
nectar. O shimmer! O spring!
Your lips
A
flower he is pollinating.
Author’s Note:
Psychedelics, like sex acts, subvert our understanding and perception of time. Combining these two (semi) narrative elements in this poem is part of the careful imagery, intensity, and playfulness explored on the page. Sex and drugs are mind and mood altering sensory experiences, sometimes pleasurable, sometimes pushing us to our limits. The form with the captial “A” seeks to push a reader to breaks and breaths they might find absurd or nonsensical, but sex and drugs are not logical, they don’t function that way. Formally, the capital “A” works as a nod to the street name, acid, but it’s also the first letter of the alphabet, a new beginning each time it appears, a fresh view, an attempt to play with control, repetition, starts/stops, all elements integral to using psychedelics and having sex. The stanzas are bite-sized, tab-sized, as we eat them, we go deeper into the poem–rabbit holes and such. Images appearing without reason in, or around the body, or the body itself becoming an object is part of the psychedelic ecstasy of this poem. Rhyme is intermittent, and as it comes and goes we understand that things are not always predictable; the same is true for sex and experimental drug usage. We expect peaks and valleys in each, but we don’t know how we will get there, how long it will take, what we will see, or feel along the way. All these elements I wanted to give to the reader as an experience–hence, second person point-of-view. Both sex and drugs murder the ego, and erode the self. The poem highlights this in the second person; the speaker is purposefully melting into the reader. The loss, or blurring of self is part of the exploration and wonderment I sought to express in this piece.
Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons.
