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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.

Copy Cat


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

imagined lines

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

whirpooling warmth,

beckoning you

besieging me.

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

playing trickeries:

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.


Spells are

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

levitating diagonally

polygon body floating in the unknown

of a fourth world, cross-wise and fused

designing lust

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

engineered algorithms

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)

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