Day 14: Fantasea Gaze, babygirl

“babygirl got options, right?” –Azealia Banks

“In the pornographic scene, there is nothing for me to say” –Luce Irigaray

babygirl knows a type of owning

babygirl says you own it &  you do

babygirl silhouetted made rock hard

indigenous, a marbleized pressure, a sense

of urgency fissures: babygirl doesn’t blur

pain is a way of unhooking

babygirl to another this is a type of dissolving

when the strap, when forcing

babygirl knows a take is taking

neck taut, a gasping, babygirl

feminist porn is a fantasea, watering

under a gaze he makes her lick

the sweet pulse and called bitch she

when he meant receptacle, when he

intended stuck, cardboard a dolly

cascade of images if it pleases him

there are so many lines between what

you can do, think you can string

to string a phrasing

stuffing of words : a gagging

a throttle lip of panic

babygirl drips & drips, so good, so easy

there’s a hurting  then a hurt

babygirl calculates a breaking

she’s a hole of wreck & wonder

& then filled filling, he follows orders

it’s hard to forget what it is: babygirl

Final 2013 Poems: A Pirating

heart's a little lonely hunter
a gnawing keeps it edged
do you believe eternal monstering
pirate down all ships a sinking: can I be
a certain kind of celebrated
long focus pulled so you night a wander
came home dark but not long
to say I would whimper between a spacing
you choice against a bane
you've already survived, when pleasure
trumps doubt, a small cubit of rain buckets
the fall, papers to mark hard stakes
so desire, so always desire
a breeding of immaculates
the heart breaks against
what it breaks against
no mind but madness
within madness

Error: A Seasonal Poem on Breaking

“Error

 And its emotions.

 On the brink of error is a condition of fear.”

 -Anne Carson, “Essay on What I Think About Most”

I.

sometimes an error occurs

because of the way the world is fed to us

like X-mas eve, putting together toys for 3 little dreamers

and you looked at me frustrated and called me a “slut”

& I sat in the space of that breaking

knowing how I wifed against a border of neglect

but you led a different life beyond the fencing of home

gingerbreaded, a snow dropping

if you say so, you can make believe

II.

as if a vow could be a way of altering

you double: live your life & write it out

it meters enough edge to trim the lies

III.

failure is just before you begin again

it precedes where you see how you

put yourself back together

I forgot the smell of you

I forgot the taste of you

I forgot any way home realizing survival

is how we maintained this artfulness

IV.

this essay of splinters

supple like causation

wide open, you watch for an all clear sign

the heart, safe for handling

to be hereditary to it is not a choice

that poem backs out, a deep spill

now too, I could not arrange the words

in better orders

V.

a half-finished sentence

I spent a lot of time saying

I love you as a way of warding

a parting

VI.

each little girl I see tears a fresh hole

in me, is this

what love is?

what is not quite

what is false that we can hold

what is made peace with a stalling

Carson says the language of the unsaid

is a two-way traffic

sometimes you travel both

VII.

he said, were you with you someone who made you

happy so little, and I stopped him

and said, I was with someone

who never made me happy

but these errors too

are a type of retelling

we don’t always have to be who we were

VIII.

I lost my life in you, not love

not nothing that was never there

a field where no one meets you

a lover is a smashing process where pieces

of you disintegrate

you don’t recognize disappearance for what it is

what do we mean by necessity?       not enough

is what we mean      not enough

a film burning where the sun

touched it