Domestic Greenleaf

Something by the river spooked me and
I thought about my finances.

Everyday
we have eaten in the kitchens of Rome
since then.

You went shopping in a furniture store.

We have bottles of olive oil and herbs
in our home of domesticity.

The visitors come, their hearts are warmed,
the scented candles burn.

An achy knee needs a bubble bath,
Fuzzy Wuzzy.

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Saidness

You move on me, not like a mirror,
but like daylight.

A dying man’s life was really a day,
one long day of life:
watch the sky open, watch the sky close.
This cloudscape belongs above Montana.

You step in me, not like mud,
but like river:
unlike the cat chase of Mohenjo-Daro,
unlike the Martian meteorites.

The turquoise from the jewelry-makers of God
I take from your eyes
and hold onto the colors of day.
There: life is frozen.

O Antarctica, only you have beaten time,
or so
the foreign-exchange students
from the mermaid-lands
have told me.

I love you, football, tender, tender.


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

Appointment With Directors

Chase the hills in Mexico,

followed the tones of your skin into shadows,

by the morning the sun was there

all eyes were open
and the beaches bartered eternity,

I reached for a tortilla.

The moss and mold hid, then fell apart
underneath
the eyes of the onward looking directors of Universe.

Afternoon cascaded down your legs
dribble dribble
and my head feels so good,
I smell the old plants,

let me eat the oranges in a still room,
god damnit, I am like an old man.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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Until I Have To Go Back To Work

You get to have 2 days off?

You guys are going to plug away at each other’s
buttholes
for 2 days straight.

Malachi answers
“Yes.”

“I’m going to try to keep my penis inside his ass
for the entire 48 hour period
until
I
have
to
go
back
to
work.”


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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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

At The Axis Of Night

When the desert was outside
I dragged the dildo outside
and pointing to the South wind
I plaintively said your name,
looking at the edges of Tuscon,
“Raymond . . . Raymond . . . Raymond”.
The wet glaze on the
polyvinyl chloride phallus
became lost and muffled,
muddled with dust.
I coughed and my lungs hurt,
a lone bird chirped in the distance
towards the east,
towards the chain hotels,
the sad glow of logos,
the chain restaurants,
the generic corporate way of life
we all know.
Then,
I walked back inside to watch
Channel 8,
still mumbling to myself,
“Raymond . . . Raymond . . . Raymond”.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

A Heart Of Elasticity

I’m building a heart,
building a heart,
building a heart of elasticity.

With olive oil, heartbreak,
stress and disease,
smoking and running,
failure and fiendism,
I’m building a heart of
elasticity.

A net of the universe,
a fabric of breath,
a bender of molecules,

I build a new heart
and the old heart
inside of me,
the same singing heart
and the super-heart ringing
in the net
of the beat.


– 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)