An extraordinary volume from this renowned sexual pioneer. In this first collection of verse, the author of such best-sellingand infamousvolumes as Sensuous Magic and Macho Sluts, reveals herself to be a poet of unusual power and frankness. Not for the timid, Diesel Fuel is nonetheless one of this year's must-read explorations of underground culture.
Patrick Califia, who formerly wrote under the names Pat Califia and Patrick Califia-Rice, is a writer of nonfiction (on men, gender, transgender identity, and sexuality) and fiction (erotica, poetry, and short stories).
Who can resist The temptation to be bitter? It is irresistible and green As the fruit of Eden. (from Serial Nonmonogamy)
I am giddy, and you are better than breathing. (from A Toast To Medea)
I am no weapon forged of steel. I am a woman made of ice. I melt, I pool, I am the source Of dangerous rivers And lakes too deep to be blue. (from A Gorean Poem)
Surviving oppression Is not the same thing as being free. (from Moving The Dirt Around)
Don't worry. I'm not blowing up. I'm just blowing my own anger Back in my face Like second-hand smoke. I want an argument, Not a revolution. (from Moving The Dirt Around)
About all of this, I can do Exactly nothing. Whoever travels with me has to be prepared To break the speed limit on a regular basis, Because we are always going to be Moving targets. If you get close enough to trigger My protective instincts, I only become more helpless To keep the jeering world away from you. I carry a knife, but they have guns; We know the truth, But they have slander on their side. (from Gratis)
places where the body bends are always sexual (from Heroin)
I wake up with her absence Between my legs And swing my arms all day Around a missing embrace. The smell of her neck Is not filling my nose, my mouth. Everything I do with my hands Reminds me that I am not Touching her, And before I can fall asleep, I have to tell her everything. (from Tricks)
I want you, But you haven't written me a letter. Until you do, I don't intend to Enrich one more public utility. (from Driving)
You are the goddess of The living water in me, Liquid that Springs from me in fountains When you strike The cold stone of my heart And demand I let you in. (from Isis)
As for poems on the page, most were not poetic. They did not make imaginative leaps or help us see the world in a new way. About half of them kept hitting the same note again and again and didn't widen or deepen an exploration of the human experience. The idea that these are "passionate" poems is misleading. I had hoped to read poems celebrating butch love. But these put forth an immature idea of love. If you want to write poems that glorify violence, self-loathing, destruction, and a disdain for femininity, that's fine. Don't try to sell it as "passionate poetry" though.
I loved this book so much. it was raw, passionate, erotic and taboo. there's something almost forbidden about liking some of these poems. like to admit to liking them would be unlocking a perverse part of you. there are some sections of all his books that im always wary of. However, i still love nonetheless. as a lesbian I could relate to and connect with so much of his poetry because of this kind of seamless blend you find with the narrator interacting with the gay community and butch femme community.
This collection was intense, and took me longer than I thought to get through. Serious content here re: drugs, hardcore sex, emotions all over the place, etc.
Extra queer and extra steamy, this collection of erotic poems proudly hails Pat Califia as being called “the author most often banned by Canadian Customs.”
I think I borrowed this book from someone, maybe Amy Laura or Elizabeth. I am pretty sure I did not buy a copy, which was probably a good thing, since I didn't enjoy these poems at all.
I think I know the person pictured on the right side of the cover. I think that is person I met through Sister Spit and had a crush on briefly in 1997. Oh yes, I made a fool of myself.