Alien Heads, The Candy

Alien heads,
oh alien heads
laid in bed
looking at a planet
they’ve
come from
so very far away
I laid with
a woman with
an alien head,

the shape of the
suburban housewife’s bob,

the genetic memory
where she came from,

across our
luscious cells.

We stare at the window
blinds
where there is some form
of day
that’s out there.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Mother’s Poem

Heaven
I think is being able to love.

No, not drugs.

not the love of drugs.

Love. Love!

Love, love, love, love.

Love is not the love of drugs.

For heaven is being able to love

without using drugs

with the pure feel of love

in the sunshine
like kittens.

Like 2 little kittens in the sun.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

My Love In Aegean

Her eyes
are the fish of the sea
I remember on afternoons
when the sun
in its highest point
penetrated
down
to the rocks and blue.

Her skin
is the horizon of houses
I come over the hills of
Marathon
to see their white plaster by
green cedars
wavering in
Boreas and Zephyr’s daydreaming.

Her home
is the hand and the valley shaped
figure
I’ve grown and dreamed towards
but
never touched,
turning to the wood of the
dresser instead
to save a warm splinter of
sunlight,

to go on breathing deep breaths
as
I age.

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin

The Bronzed Hills Near Marathon

You carve me in the ledges of your back,
I am hiding in the bronzed hills near Marathon.
It will be a long walk back to the metropolis,
that descension towards the lower lands,
scattering the hairs of dusk,
leading to good-byes across the Aegean.
Farewell ancestors of yesterday,
today I love for you, King Minos.
I will watch blue layers unfold below and above me.
I will drop my Adam’s apple.
I will thirst.

When I see you next,
I will carve your breasts
at a banquet held midday.
Fruit in our love life drips
and I wash you with it
and drink the washings.

In the silence of a white plaster room,
white lighted by sunshine and vaporous breathing,
a dance of zygote dissipates.
The age of gods and goddesses is born, lived,
and died.

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
from:
lovers of the century thumbnail image Lovers Of The Century (poetry book)

Girl Raised On Olive Oil

I’m
hooking up
with a girl
raised on
olive oil.
She asked me
if the stones
at her feet
I had cast.

She
must
mistake me
for a
civil engineer
of the Roman Army,
but
I prefer
to remain
shy.
I was never proud
of my
conquering heritage.

Who cast
the obsidian
of her pupils?
I am
proud
of them.

Who poured
the water
that sweats
from her feet?

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
from:
lovers of the century thumbnail image Lovers Of The Century (poetry book)

Do You Love Me So Much

Do you love me so much
that if I faulted
and tried to murder you
and then
at the last second
I dropped the weapon
and you had it in your hands,

would you spare my life?