/                   as i am pretty sure all americana
feels about "us":
oh 'ook, 'ere comes old man
europe,
           no hemmingway,
and no so: as the casual english
expression solidifies exchanges:
just across the atlantic:
                            the, pond...
haven't the foggiest...
     i'm "new" here,
   and even i find these english prims
& pomps and idiosyncracies
a bit debilitating...
today i walked from my home
with a knife in my pocket...
why... why?!
                         apparently it's worse
than new york,
a belt as a qusimodo boxing
glove won't cut it,
   given that that:
   requires a formal introduction,
prior to a fight...
    guns guns guns...
     over 'ere we 'ave knives knives knives...
and politicians can't exactly
ban them... no, not really...
ban knives, soon you'll be banning
forks, then spoons...
   and then...
   the whole ******* kitchen...
we'll all be eating out,
in public, cheap cheap cheap,
cheap restaurants
like the slovakians eat in...
    can you even imagine that while
in st. petersburg i didn't see,
not one mcdonalds...
    same so in moscow:
                   not a single mcdonalds...
it was like a: relief...
  a bit like only seeing africanos
only, but not elsewhere other than warsaw;
erm: afro-saxons?
            sure! we have them in england,
plenty of afro-saxons...
                so now afro(x)
is not pop-up frizzy hair,
bundled into a french bun...
                    type of... "thing"?
**** yeah!
                                hit the spot!
oh old man europe...
      tired and yet, and yet tired
of his riches,
   how craving the old trenches
of Ypres...
the belgian mud, the rain,
                        the rats and crows...
europe: lament over libya...
or even pseudo-neo-rome
lamenting over carthage being destroyed...

in reverse -
              abbrv. into - orior carthago!
was it cato the elder
   who persisted counter to this?
   as heidegger would have put it:
            that's not even question-worthy.

i am your woman in
ruby red silk sari with
gold thread-
i bear the mark of a
married woman high
on my forehead

for you i cook aromatic
spiced lamb-tender as
the light over morning
calcutta
yellow rice soft as a
painter's yellow ochre
on drying pallate

for hours i have watched
over slow rising flat bread
each  ****** of the heel
of my hand forming warm
dough into flat ovals

i bathe in the essence of
warm sandalwood and
the fruit smoke of incense

tonight i give to you the
secrets of womanflesh and
take you to me david
under white gauzy canopy
as the garden peacock
prims it's silken feathers
under the shadow of the
sundial-

tonight i am your temple
and the gods smile softly
with pleasure.            
                       ana christy

(One) (Ican'thelpitifyoumightthinkiamodd ifItellyouI'mlovingyounotforwhatyouare butwhatyou'renot)
O
Melissa with eyes silvery like water when it starts to steam
Mellisa with your chealseacut that locks sunlight with its evry strand
Mellissa with your mausoleum ***** that cages birds that spin young confusion round our ears

Avuncular heathen teacher cardholder
With your gnostic stepchildren that bare you in their undeveloped wombs
And the scattered mouths that trace psalms from your footprints
   in the the snow before they're stolen by ice

And your dreams you stir and share in restless sleeps wanting only to live another day

Mellisa who prims lectricity to stone
Mellisa who cries for noone less you know theyd return
Mellisa with your lips of dried budded rose
And your Gishian whispers that weave flame outlined by a gold only cateyes can display
Mellisa with your cashmere skin that warms and rewards every touch granted
And your lost lovers left behind
And your hands like gloves over arthritic fingers frozen from the freezing outside
And your nicotine stains that overlap into a bruise  thick enough to peel
and mark your worshipless shrine
And your drunken boats that sail upwards from the waves that chain them down and rip upto the endless starry skies

With your pierced tongue you scrape your teeth with as you tic and sing

You know Id ****** kingsmen just to stay on the run with you a while longer

Melissa with your cheap scarves and blurry trench that too stays motionless as you walk

Melissa with your bleeding gums that could kiss the dead awake
Melissa with your seedless grief and puffy cheeks that hover distant from the rest of your face
And your catfish bellybutton that I cant help but crush

Melissa with your empty questions that ring answers as you wish to hear them
Melissa with your guns in evry pocket and boots sheathed and stained
And your methodist lungs which bleed ash as your clear your throat
And your cloak that wears all the skinny traumas inferno held in its windows

How could I ever have misplaced you?

Whence seasons lingered til you wore the elements from their shells
And drew armature cerise from the clouds into the stitching that holds together our palms
And your bloodmoon mason jar that you swivel like wine
And your veins that guide submission into something maniclike

O
Mellisa you prove evry love before you was a lie

Mellisa with your reliance on those you take care of
And your batwing leather jeans and dogpaw fingernails
that twiddle your permed fringe
And your sallow skin slowly flaking and shedding
And your blistered heart that beats my ears like drums
And your careless screams in public vicinities that begged to have us both locked up
I would travel the world just to collapse by your legs

O
With your wooden bedbug leg lashes that clasp as they wither dust

With your monotonous lilt you speak with and laugh with

With your vitiligod birthmarks that tattoo your flesh

And your jawline that twitches as your eyes have no choice but to seal

And your ribcage that falls loose against your sheets

I would break evry bone over again and again and gather evry malady just for your cool palm over my forehead

O Melissa you never have to doubt whether Ill love another

O Melissa with your back turnt to the mirror, I'd hold you forever and a day

If you'd still like me to this time tomorrow.

(Two) (Farewell, be safe evermore.)
I woke up with my head and teeth shaking, felt like I was gonna die
'til I smoked a cigarette to start my day

Phlegm built up like charcoal bricks, hits my chest
Bittersweet like the smell of the night-before's lover on bedsheets with their side now empty.

No heating and thus my coldsore is frostbit, and the other hex's they gifted me rest 'neath tired skin
With revenge long out of reach--
Further than the distance of a hundred dreams  in fact

I'm surprised I woke up at all.

I tend to repress my dreams when I can, I'm a broken chamber rattling death so loud I'm echoed and either ignored
    Or laughed at--

o lord haven't I had enough?
o lord I can't make miracles out of tragedy, o lord I cant keep up with the pain that preludes my every step, o lord without hope, however misguided, I'd go insane and never come back  nor want to o lord take me in my sleep

O there are some secrets lord I know only you and I can keep.
Bless the griefs locked and left only to memory.

Little babe lost you're so beautiful and ugly don't ever **** yourself.
even when other's turn you away so scared for it to ever happen they'd rather not talk to you at all  
Dont you ever **** yourself. live a little as we dont have much life to live and besides, I think you're doing fine

   and I can't wait to see you doing much better,
When you get the time to get better I'll be there to help you up
And dust off your shoulders any residue from the fall...
I mean you can **** yourself if you wish  babe
But you're going to have to **** me first to get the chance

You can use me if you want to, I'm quite used to it just as I'm used to breathing in the same air as the dead
The used  and users typically have the same goal, after all
It's such a headfuck to know the one you loved never believed in you in the end
I know, I know
o but lord knows I still do and I will for as long as you're breathing
And though the clock is merciless you do not need to mirror it in a response of anger,
No' any longer than you choose to let whatever's done and gone still linger
Some will help some will crisscross
I bare nothing no more now but the best for you.
And my little babe don't you ever take your own life,
life's a gamble and some tries will come up short but I can't bare to lose you anymore than I can lose the will to breathe; please just let me listen or atleast rest by your side and no' say a word.

the sun squares off the tiles of northern

European roofing--with the bucking

prims of tucked shadows.

the shred-throat jellied gurgles of

starlings, rehashing into piercing tweets

throughout the whitening gold of dusk.

the central tutelage of a silence, outlined

by sounds of inbreaking traffic.