Gifting Myself by St.Orr
I'm gifting myself
the feathers of angels
feeling like gold dust
running through my hand
crumbling like sheets of gold leaf
now, in these amber days
Sweet autumn umber days
And during this
neo-Pleistocene period
of Pandemic quiet--
I'm gifting myself
a magic Etch-a-Sketch
that draws every wrinkle, smile,
living sperm and dead cell
I sloughed off and rubbed onto
every boy I ever had,
every man I ever gave myself to freely
every animal I ever charged.
I'm gifting myself
a universal Aviator's License
so I can legally float straight up
beyond this matchstick tenement
beyond yellow towers-blocking-sun
Floating away with a Hawk's eye view
Bidding farewell
to the tiny speck below
And there I lived,
in a man-cave I outgrew.
And there I was,
a prisoner of strange men's texts
and phone calls. Sometimes I wore scruffy shorts,
a housework scarf on my head;
dancing with myself high up
on a Rapunzel-like roof,
and there a black hole like a dirty shadow
showed where the deck used to be.
There, my history was tangled in a money hungry daze later transmuting my energy
into a a lusting thirst for light.
Yes, I longed for the golden-brown
hair of boys who in passing,
ignored me.
Now, I can safely turn my eyes away,
the drama’s lost in the anticipation
of warm lava flows of chill-pill moments
moments in the sun;
catchin' rays, releasing rigidity,
mining my body's bald beauty
Nosferatu would be proud.
I'm gifting myself
brown age spots stuck like diamonds
in lazy, dreaming Autumn eyes.
I gift myself
brown age spots
stuck like diamonds
from my lazy, dreaming Autumn eyes
A QUEEN'S PANIC
Call the leather leopard doctor
For this naked gerbil
has lost his drive,
and succumbed to
slow-motion, chill-pill
fly-right feelings
crawling up brown weeds
buzzing with mute laughter
Come queen!
You roof nigger with your air orgies,
your extinct animals, dinosaurs and dancing dream monsters
that do not subvert, they inspire in spite of.
Ages of Love 1
66 Trying viagra it was like a ticker-tape parade down Fifth Avenue that never happened.
9 Playing with guinea pigs whose fur felt like undulating rivers of butter and milk.
5 My Mother fed me spiders that burrowed in my gut and fed on me for years.
13 Unleashing the hungry ghost longing for wiry boy's six-packs, secretly screwing myself with tubes, lost in fantasies of pepper-cum, burning holes in bodybuilder's thongs obsessed with what was hidden underneath.
14 Taping my innocence to a 33 inch turntable like a guinea pig wounding myself with darts of hate.
67 Loving the injections that gift me a pain-free shoulder visible through turquoise silk, flowing over the rapturous sepulcher of my body as another facet of divine me enters stage left, stops and stares at the twittering audience. Cross, DS, stands until it's quiet. House lights on to reveal nothing but sparrows seeking open windows.
68 Growing like a fine, strong, ancient tree, into a muscled, wooden Indian carved from cedar, this self of me, this pillar of strength and marshmallow, chocolate and bacon boy-man flesh. Proud, stitched together by clinging vines of poison ivy and lilac shade, covered in worn shells of carousel horses lying on sun-bleached shores, while cruising dragonflies passing remind me of magic that is. As I breathe, just breathe in absolute love.
