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)

Above Calypso’s Sea

There was an island here
that held my carnal desires.

When shadows showed
on the cavern walls
from the fire
I ate them.
I fucked them.

Tumbling into the night.
Twisting close to stars.
Not quite celestial.
Not earthen.
Not there in one way
or another.

Between happiness,
long forseen in the world
of the future,
allured and drunk.

But the old winds came,
brought a priestess
to take me to the coasts of the humans,
so I could see
their achievements and failings,
their temples and refuse,
then
I could see myself
in the words I’ve written and others
who write in me
at the wooden table
in the daylight and the midnight
that
completes the verse of the wave . . .

the one, one wave.

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin

The Sun Prince’s Wife

You left me laying on the bed
with the dildo.

Darkness had fallen
and all the lights were off.

I woke up naked
and alone.

My mouth was dry.

The quiet desert sat outside the
hotel room.

A lone sparrow chirped in the
distance.