Thursday, April 19, 2012

Chris Mansell

Raskol of the heart


I choke in the stile
split and splinter
stutter out a stunted thing
can't say can't step over
I can't say suck in air
all the wrong shapes
it's oxygen with angles
and stops in the throat
I want air I want
to step into the sky
I want the want too big
I want to say
what can't be stumbled
on the hook look here stay


he fucks like a man
deprived of sex and
kisses for days, weeks
and years aching and
licking my cuntish
parts caught at
the howl and at
the womanly crying
out he plants his rod
in me lightens
the load my eyes
catch the spark
and I swallow
the world whole


I am trying not to love
I am ridding myself of longing
I am salting my plains
I am abandoning my towns
and destroying the temples
I will stop love from blistering
the pavements I am halting
the stars I am capturing the sun
and staring into the light
I am standing in my own skin
I am reckoning my bones
I am disciplining my heart
and I banish the moon
and all of this I do for you


Young Logan visits the sea

I go to the ocean
and get there just in time.

The wide brilliant
writhing thing is waiting

for me. It is lapping, salient,
eager and impatient

for me, just me, to come.
I'm here! I'm here!

Its great pacific breath,
its sobbing, is deep

relief at my arrival –
just in time. Just in time!

Can you imagine
if I had not come today!


in Barcelona
everything is suspended
even the air
a disbelief of light
a Gaudi fantasmagoria

in Barcelona the city
is your lover
you sleep only
after the struggle with
the shapes of the Avinguda

those who have the courage
to break down the city walls
for the sake of beauty
love Barcelona
her sacred grinning sky 


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