A few months ago I painted poetry on a model live at the
POETRY BROTHEL! I only just recently got the fancy photos to share.
The actual poem was a collaborative effort, written by all the different poetry whores in the brothel. Here it is in case you'd like to read it:
The wind, friends, carries more than me
Carries mighty, holds even, heaven, holy
Not high above us, but within us.
Let me see you, devoid of skin, blackened,
Iridescent, under the thick leaves.
We can drink unfold like cattails onto the shore.
Let me pour you a liffey of champagne
Let me fold you in the shamrock of my skin
Hook a memory the color of crawdads. Swim with it.
Wear ice cleats, carry pistols.
Her eyes are green. The color of divergent ethnicity
My mother is not my own
The bearer of a wounded wildness
I walk from your 8 ounze
3 carat 4 quarter palms into
semi-precious and classical bones
But these dried leaf pieces that I shatter into
Find a sort of solace on the breeze
Clacking down the sidewalk into dust
Blowing into gutters, falling into streams
Merging eventually as a form shaded green
Full of pantomime. A voice box locked
Like a trout leaping and carry
A wind locked within a voice box carrying mightily green eyes
Shamrock champagne blackened iridescence prawn ghosts kissed cheeks
Holy not high, but within us
And we don’t have a say in this. We don’t even have a voice some days
My body moves outside itself
Some days I wake up and even a handshake could break me.
Sometimes I wake and a handshake could break me
I walked out of the womb, steam rising off of each limb
I tried to let you go, but the heat had seared our flesh together.
Kissed cheeks. The boats are leaving. Empty docks
And seagulls flocking call us.
Slip from us like ghosts, gap-mouthed, spinning.
The grey homunculi want hosts now
Bodies with limbs that lift
Open your eyes. A green skin covers them.
Currently Reading: Drinking at the Movies by Julia Wertz
