Paul > Recent Status Updates

PDF page 97

Did you hear the one about the tongue
that couldn’t stop licking everything it saw It belonged to a unitedstatesian
worker whose face was reduced when his union job at the Hyatt Hotel
disappeared in the dying days of the rotten carcass economy This poem is
dedicated to that tongue
It’s hungry

And running, sweating, trampling one another, falling down, getting up,
they headed toward the center of the town; and when they got there and saw her, the flies on their trousers flew open immediately, like a miracle; and their eyes were barely kept in control by the attached optical nerves; and their hands seemed to turn into magnets. And they no longer thought about the past or the future...
PDF page 87

PDF page 77

I was part of a team of explorers we were searching for our own
bodies In the desert I found my feet and I put them in a plastic bag and
photographed them, cataloged them, weighed and measured them and when I was finished with the bureaucratization of my remains I lay down in the sand and asked one of my colleagues to jam a knife into my belly She
obliged

PDF page 67

PDF page 57
There was nothing else for the men to do but open wounds in their own
arms to give their women blood to drink, and the women wrung their tits
dry to give the last of their exhausted milk to their husbands and children;
and then, in order to make something positive out of the darkness and the
extended time, the men tried to put their cocks in their women’s nests, but
their cocks had already been dead...

how a border orders disorder
how the children looked
whose mothers worked
in the maquiladora

What’s brewing when a guy pops the top off a bottle or can
talk with another man after a real good sweat. It opens,
pours a cold stream of the great outdoors. Hunting a wild
six-pack reminds him of football and women and other
blood spoors. Frequent channels keep high volume foamy
liquids overflowing, not to be contained. Champs, heroes,
hard workers all back-lit with ornate gold of cowboy sunset
lift dashing white

PDF page 47

Excellent

In feathers, in bananas, in her own skin, intelligent body at¬
tached to a gaze. Stripped down model, posing for a savage
art, brought color to a primitive stage.

I remember that her body was full of birds, such that when a man would throw himself onto her, before ascending to the heavens, his hands would have to turn into cages so that none of the birds would escape... in spite of the enthusiasm with which she received the men, if they gave her money, she took it; but she didn’t demand they pay her because the main thing was to see the world through the eyes between her legs.

PDF page 32

Bare skin almost, underworn. Warm stitched-together soft
torn toy. Stuffed and laced voluptuous imaginary mam¬
mal made of lovely lumps. Dear plump-cheeked plaything
taken to bed and hugged in the dark.

and down her nose
blood flowed like tears
battered by husbands
and lovers
for hoarding food
and love
where has love gone?

the children
will starve
remember the war
eating potato roots

and thinking of
invasions
and prison camps
she opened her legs
to the white boss man