Cecilia Martinez-Gil & Levi Hastings
From Santa Monica to Seattle to and from a virtual cross-pollination of my words and Levi Hastings' images for the International Journal Levure Litteraire.
Here hear, this bellow of dreams
transforming inks into writers’ voices,
draped in halos and prisms of light
as utterances transgressing Elysian yearnings.
There they press towards each other
Writers who grasp oneness reaching yonder.
Their fingers key being@being writing a realm,
where words stand their grounds
as utopian alliances at dystopian lands.
Then, they read charters too, copy-editing shared fantasies,
Becoming copycats of yearned speeches,
Because their tongues can only weep in dead languages.
They write faceless lovers looking as iridescent mirages,
crafted lovers, veiled under Morpheus’ dreams.
Architects of virtuality creating deities in reckonable seconds,
imaged words timed under sandy rains of an hourglass.
These are disconnected beings in search of origins,
breaking-through self-reflections, plummeting as mind-ripples
into one-another where they’re filled in wholenesses,
to gel the broken fragments of their hundred-year solitude.
The return key releases sighs voiced as primal utterances
Fingered onomatopoeias typed as e-poems
e-liciting e-lusive e-lectricity e-ngendering e-ons
anchored in wi-fi, tethered to the fire-wire,
where in synergy, writers write and lovers burn.
Ellipsis…written as expression of echoes
etching body entailing words
until words thunder as yelps or eclipsed desires
like poking dots flat-lined intermittently
reflections of silhouettes delaying full-stop
thus, explosions follow, squelched eruptions,
bursts of rays, connecting visions of eroded pasts,
reading forewords in Esperanto,
as circling ellipses draw inconceivable mirrors
where eloping semantics are keyed…Ellipsis
Cecilia Martinez-Gil – Santa Monica 2010
One Sorceress’ Vision
Glassy my eyes
looking, lurking into indigo screen,
feverish my face
Ceremony of the irides,
sorcery of the senses.
covenant of sight.
I worship your prayer
through the temple’s vitraux
and you come trespassing the threshold
And thus, we chew the glass rim
endearing the longed kiss
as shards drip on our tongues
while our cyberborg mouths meet
in refracted light transversing.
Cecilia Martinez-Gil – D.C. 2011
The Knight’s Cauldron
I still feel magnets
they clasp their metals and melt them into alchemist’s dream.
I can only wish for a new language
spoken word as binnacle,
made-up language as compass
to find me back,
to record my own origins,
its forgotten sources
in here, while I’m inhaling her scent.
stirring up the searing cauldron
shape-shifting her epic witchery bubbling:
and the sorceress is uncured, unbound, unspooled.
She laid on a round table
she was no supper
she was blind ruckus
but she was licked and lashed
mixed and mended
as hybrid of tears and rain
entrancing this limerick recited as spell
that thrice stormed the knight’s cauldron.
Cecilia Martinez-Gil – Seattle 2012
Flower of Life
I am still thickheaded
polygon body floating in the unknown
of a fourth world, cross-wise and fused
bumping against imaginary corners
hankering for the woman that I touch on the screen.
She is source
a bouncing icon on cyber VDT
in the indigoes
of a non-Euclidean space-time
unilateral, equilateral dream realms
alluring me to exist in the fourth world
these imaginaries of my mind.
We write the pact
The making of a board game, its plot and our pleasure.
Woman’s shape merge in the axis
coding invisible traces of geometrical shadows
showing the vertices and the epicenter,
rendering 21st Century mutants
players of the bodies performing the un-sequential
video game to render the intersection of me in you
of you in me in the Vesica Pisces.
Cecilia Martinez-Gil – Seattle 2011
Entonces tu Boca
You just teased my mouth with the tip of your tongue While I was here and not there And yet I was provoking you, I was in your mouth all the way beyond this distance. These sliding doors are opening and closing way too fast: If I jump to enter into this other side I might not know if you are the past or this present Because Sir, today, your pleasure is all mine. And today, I can taste you I remain in your only way of keeping me In the reminiscence of your in-keeping of me, As I know you play me in your boca how you have played me, and as I image you with my boca as I have imaged you yesterday. Entonces, Flashback into the missing wholes of memories Fantasy of the past filling tied unities with this shedding light Evoking our ways of evanescencented substances. You today Flashed me far back fumbling my away-ness with your fingers
Entonces, your fingers are unforgetting me Your fingers were doing this thing that they do like keying and tapping their tips to graze me gently, eying me almost in their steady touch, drawing my outlines, in their fixed gaze.
My skin did not snuff the traces left by your fingertips Entonces, they touch me now In the fingerprints compiled in our jazzy recollection Exploring your mouth In which I found myself, way inside you inside your boca.
Cecilia Martinez-Gil – Santa Monica 2012 (From WIP Memoracles a bilingual collection of prose poems)