the discovery of her writing was my renaissance
a revolution in words
permission to say anything
be anything
study everything
wreck every microphone stand put before me
to set stages on fire
whilst drinking all the bourbon in the world
commingle science with metaphor
a sister
a teacher
a mother
a peer
with no pressure involved
whose every book and poem i’ve read
right down to her thesis
i could live happily in one of her shoes
as an inconsequential scarf
about her neck
an afterthought earring
or an old leather jacket she never wears
so i reach out to her
expecting to be told
take a number
but instead
she says yes
because we share
the same vice and vocations
she recognizes my scars
and my smell
we were born to the same herd
we drink single malt scotch on the phone
and discuss
the tiny little men we screwed and married
death
birth
chickens before eggs
and raising sons
she asks me for some work
i say yes
she adores my chutzpah
and the fact i use the word chutzpah
she asks me to come west
with how deep my voice is
to explore
the northwest territory
together
listen to her Kesey stories
because every god damned writer manages
to have a Kesey story
sure as shit
and i want her
all of her
flesh of my flesh
i can taste her on my tongue
so
i say no
even as my soul
rushes the gate
to board the plane
because we’ll end up fucking
and
i need her to remain my undiscovered cuntry
i need her safe from regret
she understands
and is grateful for being considered
pristine
in someone’s mind
warm in the knowing
she will remain a god
i tell her
my favorite muppet show sketch
is
kermit & lydia the tattooed lady
i sing a refrain
she accuses me of being
the world’s most beautiful marxist
and we laugh
4 replies on “the northwest territory”
Jesus. Jesus Christ. Forgive my blasphemy, but have you been published at all? How can I help you along?
Cuntry. Favorite muppet show sketch. Beautiful marxists. Chutzpah.
Could be the drink talking. Could be the talking talking. Don’t know. Don’t care. I am trying to restrain my enthusiasm for your poetry.
I’ve been published quite a bit. Too many magazines to mention. My book is available on Amazon. Hell on Heels poems by Alicia Young. This Spring Cultural Weekly is featuring me. Thank you for caring enough to ask, and for digging the fuck out of my work.
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Cool – I will have to track that book down. Glad to hear that you’re out there.
I’m so fucking out there…;)
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