RedWings & SharkSex

[pomba gira]

OK the "sex with strangers" thread made me think of these... one is old (10 yrs ago right before I moved back to Detroit), the other is way old (late '80s in San Francisco). The 1st one is from my Patti Smith phase. The 2nd is the one I couldn't find for the Aunt Flo thread. Reading them is weird... it's like they were done by someone else entirely.... seems sooo long ago!

SHARKSEX OVERDRIVE

1. BADMOON II

Thoughts crystallize unheard

and fall into speech

like tainted obsidian arrowheads

I become a poem

embroidered in tarnished silver thread

on tattered and bloodstained brocade

2. SHARKSEX

Living

performance art I

wallow in psychic shadowglass on

other-reality stages

seeking

always pleasure and

or simple intensity

to flow

like a liquid blade

through love like clear light

animal-pure rut

ethanol incoherence

to be

electric shoulder-to-fingertip

ZAP

of needle hitting nerve

to shine

like a dead thing in a swamp

to go

weeping and gnashing teeth

in fine Revelations style

...I Become a Poem.

ca. 1989

GOT MY RED WINGS, HOW 'BOUT YOU?

Smellin' yrself, what the old folks say when you're just hittin' that adolescent gettin-beyond-yrself stage, all sleek & arrogant w/that first taste of yr new power. & today I cn smell myself, hotcopper dark & raunchy-strong & just a step on the dangerous side; the shamans say elemental she-power too raw & chaos-kiss'd to harness to any useful end... yeah smell myself today & remember getting my red wings, tasting Rose that night was like chasing the dragon & the room pitched & yawed around me like a sailing-ship lost on some wild tropical sea and Rose laughin at me, But Hille- to which I charmingly reply Yeah so who gives a fuck? & Blake snarling on the other side of the bedroom door and it's funny but knowing that my hotcopper delirium is ver' likely to be interrupted by some act of drunken jealous violence just pulls me deeper into it and in fact at this moment I cn think of no finer way to die thn crouching here like a lioness at the only waterhole in miles of hot dusty savannah, drinking darkness and magic from between this spoiled little bitch's velvetcream thighs...

spring 1994

[mallochai]

damn. that second one brought make MAJOR memories. :cheerful

good stuff.