Mind Caviar Poetry

PJ Nights  lives in coastal New England and is the senior poetry editor of MiPo. Her poetry has appeared in various online and print journals including Animus, Penumbra, Apples and Oranges, , Slow Trains, The Green Tricycle, Lotus Blooms Journal, Steel Point Quarterly, the muse apprentice guild, and in the textbook Language and Prejudice. Her poem "three parts wormwood, one part Solomon's seal" won first place in the 2003 Poetry Super Highway Contest.

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john e  was born in New York and lives in California. He is the editor of MiPo~Print, and the former poetry and flash fiction editor of the The Erotica Readers & Writers Association Web site.  His writing has been recognized by the IBPC and the Preditors and Editors Poll, and has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize. He works at a winery. The following poem is a collaboration inspired by a piece on display at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NYC.

Email john e. Visit PJ Nights and john e online.



Female Figure as Container
                     Mexican ceramic
                        9th-6th c BC
 
 

if it had been a smile,
it wouldn't have been as intriguing -
one less link spanning centuries,
drawing power from where
my intricate embellishments imagine
what she might hold:

      she holds me in her terra cotta flesh,
      draws me deep into her pores
      where I mingle with oils of the hearth

      smoke from kitchen fires,
      my sweat condenses around its seed -
      rains to fill her navel

sauces, spices, juices
wine sparkling or my weakness
made noble, jumping into bed
from a bridge of years,
ceramic, inscrutable -
she beckons,

                  massages my feet
in crushed mint - this fills me,
primitive figure full of
empty, fresh spirits uncorked,
white feet cooled by clay
ankles slide against each other...
as she lifts her breasts
I empty the bottle

empty-bottle spaces fill
with her dark matter,
musky matter to contain my being,
cluster the mumble of thunder
into satisfied vinyl -
            the needle grooves deep

subway lines, sub
way times drummed out in garbage -
      the boot is for my one bare foot

belly split beautiful
brown bottom bucking
ancient turns today beautiful
everything beautiful
shoulders and psi, breasts
and spread legs wait -
beauty before, beauty now

beauty in radio light
soul oldies backdrop
sauces, spices, juices
rolling her eyes
pouting mouth inscrutable
fingering toes in thunderlight flashes
poem-writing necessities
held in the emptiness
of spanned centuries
 

Copyright  ©  2003 PJ Nights and john e. All Rights Reserved. Do not copy or post.


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