Sunday, 30 October 2011


Sirens roam the earth seducing men with beautiful voices and their wild nature. Your compassion, your light draws us in like moths to a protective flame. Heart burning so bright, White light to see amongst the night! Amongst the thick smoky fog and sweet incense an eternal flame of abundance. Purity. Childhood wonder-excitement, pain! Sweet earthly foods to sooth our souls and deep red rush wine to spice our bodies, our low stomachs holding burgundy promises in the night-alive! Wild magic and fantasies dancing on the Walls from firefly-eyes… Hearts beating on faster farces…This amazing ethnic reality of sorts… Of the older sister, of the naughty teacher, of the mysterious woman! You taught; we taught. Sea-spray and golden-limbed, addressing the night still drunk on life. Addressing the night like cheeky devils only out to trick or laugh and catch a tasty treat between our ruby lips.

Eloise Dunwell


by Federico Garcia Lorca

No one understood the perfume
of the dark magnolia of your womb.
Nobody knew that you tormented
a hummingbird of love between your teeth.

A thousand Persian little horses fell asleep
in the plaza with moon of your forehead,
while through four nights I embraced
your waist, enemy of the snow.

Between plaster and jasmins, your glance
was a pale branch of seeds.
I sought in my heart to give you
the ivory letters that say "siempre",

"siempre", "siempre" : garden of my agony,
your body elusive always,
that blood of your veins in my mouth,
your mouth already lightless for my death.


Give me the strongest cheese, the one that stinks best;
and I want the good wine, the swirl in crystal
surrendering the bruised scent of blackberries,
or cherries, the rich spurt in the back
of the throat, the holding it there before swallowing.
Give me the lover who yanks open the door
of his house and presses me to the wall
in the dim hallway, and keeps me there until I'm drenched
and shaking, whose kisses arrive by the boatload
and begin their delicious diaspora
through the cities and small towns of my body.
To hell with the saints, with martyrs
of my childhood meant to instruct me
in the power of endurance and faith,
to hell with the next world and its pallid angels
swooning and sighing like Victorian girls.
I want this world. I want to walk into
the ocean and feel it trying to drag me along
like I'm nothing but a broken bit of scratched glass,
and I want to resist it. I want to go
staggering and flailing my way
through the bars and back rooms,
through the gleaming hotels and weedy
lots of abandoned sunflowers and the parks
where dogs are let off their leashes
in spite of the signs, where they sniff each
other and roll together in the grass, I want to
lie down somewhere and suffer for love until
it nearly kills me, and then I want to get up again
and put on that little black dress and wait
for you, yes you, to come over here
and get down on your knees and tell me
just how fucking good I look

- Kim Addonizio

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