Saturday, August 20, 2011

Bloodgutter looking in/out at the real Other for whom in is out

caused by the deposition of dead blood
into the schemes of expulsion—think of
trees a clearing smoke rising the smell of meat burning slow

the gunge and ooze the wings the non-wings
the womanly thing the man thing that acts and speaks not
the way that light hits from aside
stairs descending 1234 into the archives
of the body

nine tenths of anyone is bacteria
alien stuff from a world without air
living in us like we are space-suits

Feminism is just the same old urge
to hop louder to eat grass and grow wings that swell
over the sea, to become itself the transhuman

this is the other reason: mix

it up and see
before we were here
before we could be
they were here
they had to migrate when the air brought us in
they migrated into us
our darkness
our warm wet caverns

asteroids loaded with vats of spermaceti
tended by aliens with care and rope

hollow oh oh oh
sits the song

one of these days you will wake up
one of them will be cackling on your headboard
grown huge
do you have a headboard?
I don't know
but you'll regret it and soon

think hard of the substrate
the Burgess Shale
our love affair doesn't fossilize there
it's all just red-black mystery

this is not the beginning middle or end
of a beautiful relationship

airships airships everywhere
so many wild airships
they mount the sky like strange balloons

a billion years if necessary
until the ride is available
back to deep space
to their deep songs

of all the guts in all the world
she had to walk into


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