Cathy Wagner: Poem: Homage to Sex/to Us Properties

  Cathy Wagner

 
  poem:
 

  Homage to Sex/to Us Properties

I
I also will sing war when this matter of
a girl is exhausted

Killy  Killy  Killy

Flow Filmy Forc’d

Forecake  postcake

Twelve section boast

First few sections      Might bold a fart

                          Bring the Grecian orgies

            Unto me also pay debt

Did a hole Did a hole Did a hole
does no good to anyone
try to stretch the flexible bag
that is our atmosphere or show it porous

wore something unexpected out

II
My toad tell you unwrapped from selfmade
seven-year placenta  Rain woke me  I too
went to sleep turned into  rocklike thing for
till the rains

I’ve got a place to stay and if I am

stupid and lazy worn out for two years I

get away with it  maybe could

have sex in bed all morning and in late

afternoon and in the middle of the night

beautiful and awake

and drink wine without hangovers till my

house is clean and I didn’t do it and my

house is maintained and I didn’t

“innovate worldly role so feel power

prosperity in public”

If blue hadn’t fallen from blow
and needed to walk and climb
blah wouldn’t have seen this canyon
beautiful canyon
                                            Hey Smartya who ye talking to?
                            I’m talking to my class
                                            Hey Smartya who ye talking to?
                            I’m talking to my class

Or to someone  called “touchy”
who associates  the mild
      “accidental” “unintentional”
    “appearance of bigotry” with
deformed world skeleton skin harm
a dead woman in my body is talking
to my class my cats and

High the spirit jumps to create

its specialness and

preferences its settings

partially curatable

III
Sun just rose
lie next to it odalisque
The boy steps into the fountain-pool
Do I attend to his skin color
in postrace postrape future
hold tote bag
in the mean time
my songs may travel
and the devirginated young enjoy strange
differential freedom

Gathered round

Um screen

Um screen

For swap sensation

Joe’s tumor smudged into the nerves that
connect the two sides of his corpus
callosum. Joe thought Laurie was on his left
side when she was on his right side    um

felt the

(her) switch, room swiveled

the corpus
callosum is “larger in women”
thus they are “better
at multitasking” left boob right

this poem is going   

To solve the problems of the whole world

By addressing itself to

Its ground-up ground for being

Ground round [meat categore]

It’s going to kill you girl

if amity’s licensed by

the ground on which you walk

In your grove I would walk
To see with your eyes

That the ground of a person
Is personhood

Banana touching my

pubic hair very lightly for minutes

until my legs fall open

by themselves  Identity

driven drives a girl

IV to burst with nation
Tell my left tit it is my
right tit, and cat on the counter
where it counts
get off the counter cat
A person is anything critter who could
dominate  a person
has some dominion
Ground up person
wearing neighborhood
Address the ground
Under the hood
is engine  spiral tampon
cat-in-roses binder
Address the grown and ingrown
neighbor working
Sunny mor                                                                            Go outside!

can’t find my boots

There we  go    out I  go

There’s not a poem for that [for out] [for go
            outside?]

Rather have a drug or
app for that
sense of awe?

                predictable gap-widening-in-mind
                                                                                    heart enlargement?
                                                                            Is that a job
                                                                  Is it a poem job
to feign a hood
    from inside
My ears are warm
If I no longer keep the basics going
    could slide from
under “woman” without
their kno not icing and
Address the feign hood

V
While those who declare
    between or other  in dress
  get the lash for it

Wear addresss

Address be kind and rosy
    pink be ink
be sexual flavors
walk into
  humid cloud around
the genitals
address smell there

VI
a hood
to get shot by cops in
a coppice
where limbs are removed
for fuel
Empty your pockets Baltimore
and the limbs regrow
odd and wiry that’s urban blight

some years later
chop them off again
that’s urban renewal
 

these forests are managed

according to

common need

show your bright face

accountability

show your long long face

obesity graph

sawtooth dignity graph dead

seas and prison cells
divide  start to foam                                                      as lettuce

from Mexico

or California that

embagged and trucked

to Kroger then my “crisper”

goes uneaten (I ate at work)

biodegrades in landfill

not as carbon dioxide

but (because hot and compressed)

methane bubbles

ten times worse than CO2

Methane also bubbles from human ass

as you’ll know if you

are around a few days

before my period

when I could

Power a Snake

 

The sun melts snow

on top layer

in tiny rainbow fires

crystal wet blurring

structure

 

Top layer pocked with holes

You know the snow is “actually”

“clear”

it just looks white

it’s white then
if I see it white
Address yourself to the
Problem of address
You separate fucking
Neighborhoods

Ground for

your arrest

Stopped you
From interfering
With my rest  of your
Goodbye

VII
In a Station of the Metrics

A hate and love

Dulce et decorum est

To talk to you, to talk to you

while you’re here

 

If you’re going to hurt somebody

Set it free

If it comes back

It by force

It was never

It

Can tell you want you want to know. Ask

 

from

It/in memory

of Take/ this

It/can tell you what you want

Even if perchance it frown

not wholly on thy prayers

what a world of care

it will bring thee!  world of are

VIII       I found you in the toilet of the page
A page is helper
To the aristocracy
Which needs help
to save itself
So I won’t flush you
into sewage land of waste
and chem-pure defefact
derido melt

You could be useful  dried for fuel

or used   as fertilizer

I forget what you are

Whatever I’m addressing how

Ever I’ll use you itchoo

Reintegrate your shit

Into my lifey

Woe or whoa
Isn’t me preference
 

Puzzle rain rancid

bowling shoes  Honorarium

To postpone domination

Shrink into a distant seacoast

You rogue how’d you do it?

IX
Me preference would be to adopt a dialect
abscorn me
Back to house
Leave on my shoes

If I don’t say you I am

choked back in reaching

 

If I say you

you recede

luckily small nipples I can
hardly find when I in dark
search your chesthair
pinch hard  Mine are
easy to find  Pinch em hard

Come on use that glorious
Serpenting underground worm clown
Dawn in nation to
Rise and wreck the whole playground
This playground is for creeps

X      Can I write with
gloves on? yes
So here we go on
walk of night by day
Snow flurries  Find a way
one wasn’t read  Nor ready
Glasses fogged up, itchy thing
on back of head under
hat, scratch with pen
 

He snows  say le French

He snows because particles together

mind

Collab/Collate cold him
Walk and notebook

Can’tell what’s going on here?
Do wants to see you!?Why are dead?
All made up love?
 

Like hatecake mongers

The tellers of love to me

The automatic tellers

Read [past-tense] about orphans
Orphans are as free
As narrative requires.

Hands cold now
under mitt mind moves
what kind of ab use?
Oh just insanitary verbal
trying to reach a music
I hear or imitate
my walking bones
prescripting waste for

you already hyphen know

how much these wages blow

push us or we into the

snow up to our up to you to

 

say how brutal in the pose

They who want to be slapped

hard are want to feel

I like that too I was en route

 

when you

shot in the street

were done with feeling

Globe woo fell
chronic snow
and woo feel
hands at massive carry rodent risk
a mother in a song                                                    Hail

frenemine

in hell of woo  The love

a grander jury freed

The government won’t say  a firm benone

XI

You can frankly crazy mound in time

I won’t give up address

for ego not

together with a you

issue I know not what

and that is why I’m

                                                      dialing out  and
                                                            ooh  the penitentiary moves
                                                          leviathan under a
                        concrete skin
private-public partnership
how a body’s made

Privacy doesn’t have to be
about money   Foundations
what they used to call
the underwear department

        And now, sex to us, properties!
                                                        Upset the taking

                        Triumph ye, young of indeterminate
                    character

Make a jacket for turning out
the pockets  a hoodie
that’s all pockets
and in all the pockets
sewn in there
a tiny human doll

XII
Here’s golf course bridge
above stream.
Was some starling competitor recently
decimated, hence huge
murmurations?
Climb little hill above pond
out of breath
Can’t see houses  but all
in front of me (pond,
lines of trees, mowed slopes)
conditioned by humans
Behind the hill a heap of chopped
trees, some of them
enormous – logged from the golf course
to shape the grounds the water trap
This course has insufficient belongers
A lawn pluperf
I too didn’t do
The necessary PR
I fell down on the job re

mind a propriate

namer

device of liking

the pond is opal device

is a broad flat shiny
whity-gray area

snow in patches
looks like faces  a dog
          with floppy ears   an antelope
Snow in all the faces            Train noise
                                                                                            as people
                                        marching and screaming
a screechy whistle/whistling screech
                                                                      Now just marching

US poet Cathy Wagner
US poet Cathy Wagner

Catherine Wagner‘s latest book is Nervous Device (City Lights, 2012). She teaches in the MA program in creative writing at Miami University in Oxford, Ohio. The poem above uses some lines and parts of lines from Ezra Pound’s ‘Sextus Propertius’ (H.E. Butler translation) and Kathy Acker.

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