Monday, August 20, 2007

Stinking Hearts

Puppy me, I was loathe to lose Nathalie's scent, her muddy hair and the bitter grapes behind her ears, the tart fresh-cut cactus taste she left on my hands.

- Felicia Luna Lemus
'Like Son' (152)

It seems to be that when I am lactating I become more accutely alert to scents. Everything is heady and thick, the sickly sweet deodorants signalling the first sign of spring and the adolescent aftershaves of first year undergraduates. I can sniff out the diets of fellow commuters on my morning train, detect the contents ofplastic grocery bags and crumpled trousers. Its a state I associate with pregnancy, a hyper-sensitivity, the regular fragrances of life suddenly making the expectant one gag and swoon.

I'd been staring at Nathalie for who knows how many minutes. That girl got me directly in the chest. Ribs simply shouldn't be cracked open and seperated by a layperson. Cardiac Matter shouldn't be touched but in the most pristine environments. Even then, complications are likely to occur.

- Felicia Luna Lemus
'Like Son' (153)

Yes, I have just read Like Son, yes, I loved it and yes, I'll probably post more quotes here for you to savour. I like the way Lemus writes. No comment on the heart quote, except to note that the medical tone of it makes me a bit squishy in the pants...

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Anonymous Anonymous said...

secretive and furtive...
all those things i cant tell you about
all that stuff i cant bear to forget
and i cant stand to remember
the dark stuff
the weird scenes inside the silvermine
banking on nights to never end
that always do
oh that cold light
12 hours hence lies another night
another room to take you in its warm arms
in the darkness
white powder
someone in a costume
oh god my ears are ringing
wine bottles full of starblood
cos it all fills me with longing
for some new violation
for some transgression of the ouside world
to take it and bend it and have it your own way
to bend it over n over again
according to your will
a little maid appears
im here to do your room
oh ok
yes turn down my eiderdown
turn it down the way you do
im having the world a la carte
im a hungry man travelling thru a forest in 1616
i meet a little blonde maid in a dell
sweet sunlit bower
we lay among the flowers
a man needs a maid
maid bring me my gloves
maid bring me my glasses
i need to see better
this delicate work i do
these improvisations on a theme
come here now maid
and take away these things
im so busy lazing away here
the world is chucked out the window
look out the window
what do you see
the world, of course
i see myself in the mirror
all bothered n distracted
my chest heaving like a sea
my heart beating like a drunk drummer
walking on this dipping floor
dripping dew drops and snow flakes
pink candles flare in the corners
shrine to some kytheran goddess
venus in a shell harbour
venus in synthetic furs
venus, fly! trap!
the candles emit some scent
has permeated my cavernous mind in its fogginess
the smoke hangs in the air suspended
sweet bitter taste in my mouth
oh is a saint supposed to do this?
i remember my name again
i seem disconnected from its anglosaxon implications
i see it as disembodied vowels n consonants
poetry floods thru my drains
all those rude n rotten fucking poets
who knew how to live it up
sweet arthur rimbaud
you had it all your way
absinthe bent your brain
and you got it all down
deranged n derugulated
you let your senses wander
we were lookin' at the big picture too
the big picture on the wall in my room
little maid please straighten up the big picture
oh its hanging so crooked
like a guilty serpent at a chickens funeral
the big picture i kept my eye on
like jimbo
and some other long gone cats
alley cats winos dope fiends poets n layabouts
visionary fools getting it all down
and me...
i gotta get it all down
down on paper
down my throat
into my self
bang it up
im rushing here and there
im on my run
i dont care to listen
i dont care to hear your warnings
this is my favourite thing right here
my little favourita
maiden heaven
it goes around again
will this never end
melted icing in your rearview
closing in on ya honey like a bad cop
coming down like the law
taking you under protective
restraining you for your own
getting the truth anyway they can
finding out all about ya
and what you been doing with yourself
like a premontion of a headline
take a dive in the 13th parallel
impaled on a song you are
hovering over it like a dragonfly
invisible inaudible wings
snapped at by the sick olde toads
the goldfish lear at you from underneath
they look up your name thats starts with a ?
and then suddenly it all ends
a burst of flame
the canopy implodes
the cockpit is torn apart in white flame
i reach for the ripchord
as im spat out
back into the world
the fresh air singin' in my earrings
the grey clouds like a shroud over the doomed city
the endless ocean
lapping and licking
the countless grains of sand

1:58 pm  
Blogger Zoo said...

Well, THAT makes me curious... ah, the anonymity and mystery of cyberspace!

12:58 pm  

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