savaje ρ

I. Tataxytyl

II. Ixora

iii. Nameless

Part I.  Tataxytyl


The orange curtains caught the sunset light and waved at, penetrated into the space – high ceiling, white walls, dark red cushions, where the girl lay. Her structure was quite chiseled, as the athlete who knows no mental blocks, as the heroin addict, tight skin on cut flesh, of who the same might be said – Heraclitus laughing; opposites bleeding.

Her name was Tataxytyl, and yes—she knew no boundaries. In her mind she constantly built castles, labyrinths, that she would walk through in her spare time, until she forgot to contain herself to them, and she would spill out, fractals, into more and more and more worlds.

She used to try to keep track of them all, but the older she grew, the more they took up arms and mocked her in some kind of dance – elaborate dance, rhythm-ed concoction, bless-ed harmony – until even this dance grew boring, and she would loop, circle out, to try to grasp in her muscled fingers, strengthening tendons, the divine cosmic comedy itself.

She had been sleeping, and yet her mind worked – puzzled, crawled along, like a candy centipede, squirting color every which was as it struggled, advanced, through the frothy, magnetic night. And suddenly her eyes jolted open – pupils, commence – and with burning consumption, she turned to the man beside her, and began to speak.

“Daddy, Daddy, don’t you see, I understand, I understand.”

He turned to her with eyes gelled over, not with absent-ness, norr simple-ness, but with a certain gentle curiosity – not the kind that kills animals, and much less people; not the kind that eats itself. Some milder kind, that lacks a word—something linked to the cosmic background radiation, something linked to that eternal, pure, probing nothingness. With those eyes he looked, and said not a thing.

“Daddy, Daddy, don’t you see, I can see it – reality. The symbolic reality. It is carving itself around me… Oh, it wants to dance with me, but I don’t know how to take it up in my arms yet.”

Her tone grew in exasperation – frustration, complete.

“Everything is blossoming into itself, and so am I – I am everywhere! Take me, take me – help me live like this, for forever and a day! The symbols have integrals, and derivatives too, in all of the dimensions – infinitively – and so they all morph, combine into one another, in the great unity that is this all. And all I want to do is consume it – but to consume it I would have to let it first consume me, and oh, oh – I am too fucking scared to let it do that!!”

As she finished her words her body had moved into a grand symphony of gesticulations, strutting, maneuvering all over the cushions, until, her thoughts complete, she collapsed into a mild and depressive haze, morose, atop the cushions – tan, chiseled flesh atop deep red sea. As her breath calmed, the man gazed, then shifted his eyes to the white, high ceiling.

Tataxytyl lay for – who knows, how long – a minute, an hour, a day, until the sunset light faded out of its obscene, overwhelming beauty, and the stars all twinkled meanly in the overflowing sky.

The curtains still blew, gently, inward, responding to the whispers of the wind.

“Tell me,” she finally said, softly, shifting from her endless repose.

“Tell me a secret.”

“I have none,” he replied. “You know them all.”

“How could that be,” Tataxytyl responded, “when your mind is there, and I am over here. I sit here and see the irises playing tricks on one another outside, little frogs forming gypsy bands to serenade the herons, the pink dancing burlesque to try to seduce the night sky to dawn, all of the conquerors and invaders of our eons building bridges and riding horses and I see this and I always see this, this movement, these swerves of creatures and all things… and this, this is a secret to you. So how can you tell me that you have no secret back for me?”



organs, all your vitality

teach me something I don’t know

hot pink nails and waters sapphire

all bare skin burnt hot from coals

take me to all the places

where the land and sky touch tips

dripping in gold bangles

shackles of a waxing hope

kings and princes, queens so cool

who will say

what worlds await…




gold tassels

eyes like macaroons

so rough in their curvature

I’ll indulge in

sweet chocolates

you’ll indulge in mad guests


oh, this urge to

have me a container

that you wolves can pack up

and shift around


endless oceans…

sea blue green

cocaine nights under a

blackening sky


you tell me what you are

and I’ll tell myself to believe it


depth, deepening

magenta are my woes


I still see irises when

I shut my eyelids

overflowing with that

crepuscular tissue


Don’t love

Don’t hate

Just be.




Tie me up in Laingian knots

invent a new culture to express our love

on my nails – it’s the strength of car paint

dazzling claws to tell you your mine

nothing is supposed to happen

yes, nothing’s all there ever is

I’ve got my bonnet on, my blinders

white-out winter, metal windows

look out to watch and see your face

gaze reptilian – chameleon scales

shifting sharply, shifting softly

kaleidoscopic, on my body

yes, I told you –

nothing’s all there ever is




What do I really want with you?

For you to hold my hand when it gets dark?

No – I’m not sure how you see the kaleidoscopic beauty of my festering wounds

I was told of the sage of 10,000 years

and all of the persons he might be…

The fact that I can perceive all the wars in the world

is just a symptom of these between my own

Rape kinks


Tattoos of Swedish last names


Home bodies

Messages to mark the pain

I am here now, and there’s no use looking back

Maybe it’s just better I forget,

so next time around

that high feels virgin anew




I had a little dream

of a black monk with white wings

fingernails red, dripping

tail checkered, curling


take me away, I told him

and he enveloped me in an embrace

as sweet as summer ice

run wild over with the mad drips of red and purple fructose


take me away, I told him

to where I can lie naked in a field of swaying daisies

rocking to the rhythm of my thought to just that pace that I—


feel their presence

but do not perceive it


take me away, I told him

to where this pain of mine grows on trees with fruits as sweet as mangoes

with juicy flesh that floats in scraps to the innards of all who adore it

only to leave, unnoticed

with all the other things

deemed unfit to stay


take me away, I told him

to where I can run naked among the plains

falling here, into the pit of a hare

there, into the chest of a bison

yonder, toward the skittish path of a bee

dancing around with all these totems

erased of those memories of a civilization

where they were there to rape them all


please—don’t take the words as I have done

as flashlights for a waning hope

I’m just a fool, you see

not even a student – not anymore

looking for something I already have

but buried so deep inside


I can’t help but paint my nails black

drench my lips red

grow my pussy long

and kill my locks blonde

just so one day I’ll be caught moping,

and look to a cloud and say—


            that is it,

                        that is it.




Orange desert,

            run over with rusty sculptures

            drawn tight by reddening debris

How I long to swim in you

Waving about my arms to stir up frothy paste,

            ovular bubbles

That rise to the sky, housing within them the secrets of so many other lands

Ash tray, hovering upon the sea

The detritus is just another expression of the same love

Hold me with the pattern that connects all things

Lay some candles on the fat around my waist

            and watch them burn til

            I and the wax are one.

Agency – don’t fucking speak to me of my themes

I know what I am doing, I have just chosen

not to want to know too well

Blueberry skies, wells of icy water

You know, one day

I really do believe I will be free…




it is not so easy anymore to say how I feel

because all the feelings are talking to one another


between them walks a jaguar with

                        green spots and snowflake claws

            flaying its teeth          


                        whetting its tongue

            yearning to climb up some spire

            to say hello to the sky

            to see the next dimension of dimensions—

            the up, not just the between


all my walks along these rivers

and I see myself just more the fool

I may look up at the moon – yes

but what I see still has a name

I love you, yes–I love you, not

how am I to blame then the liquor in my veins

or now – the icy wondrous fear in my heart

            fear like glacial cavities

            fear like cavernous icicles

the world – the world!

turned over

knitting itself into one another

sometimes in my dreams I grasp reality

and when I awake, it’s all forgotten


            oh, the lust in this pollution

            the romance of the fog

            hanging in the air

            delaying transmission

so we can watch the communication

            waving in the air

like a bleach white flag of surrender

caught between its pole and the wind

stretching out – downward dog

to a land it knows

            not yet

                        not yet

                                    not yet




It was last night that I realized—

You’ll never know who I am

just its shimmering product

cackling in the cauldron of night.


I know you truly believe

these lies you tell yourself

and I was just forgetting

to not believe them too.





a butterfly with four wings

one for the one and a pair for the other

a dragonfly with fire eyes

blue flames—the screen of my thoughts


bubblegum sodomy, and Persian quilts

telltale signs, of worlds reversed

the lithograph of my lire

dancing with its own sad, soft mirror image.


oh, I see them now!

after song’s pure denouement

proceeding hand in hand

to the one’s antique canopy bed

to build a fortress

in scraps of hot pink taffeta

filter for the light, burning radiation

always whispering its pleas to seep through

a place to frolic all the night

and awake with candy-soaked thighs

and unfamiliar smiles

painted on, Leonardo

so they can go and eat their eggs


all the bartenders wear so many rings on their fingers

so when they gift you, lovingly

their snake charm poison

you can look at something besides

the drought-ed patterns on their quivering lips


the bloody curvature of my salt martini glass

listens to the vowels and soft sh’s

of this language not my own


how am I to know

of all the meaning in that glance

between the two men below


I sniff the drugs

my canine mind


I sniff the things

that I might someday hope to know


am I sad? I truly do not know

so I take my ceramic and glass

the opaque and its slutty cousin

so I can make – make words

make it all, til I can’t no more




let me make a list of lucky charms—

            skinny Asian cigarettes, and

            endangered blood eclipses

            blood of liver’s tiger rum

            and secretive embrace


from my fingertips shoot laser beams

made of winter’s wildest tricks

curls on serif fonts – aloud

the making, crumbling bricks


disintegrating, madly so

who am I today?

just another

loosening lover

made of candy canes

            and pain

lion dicks,

            and cuttlefish

purple skies and rain

reflecting water,

Windex spray

and slowly loading days


fill me up

with tainted water—

potion of the gods

tell me I’m

not made of covers

floating over air

drink me up

like porcelain

made liquid—alien flames

tell me I’m

some solid thing

deny the flux of names

the static of

the radio

betrays the dynamism

of the world

stock me up –

canned beans and corn


I’m just another girl.




bombs + blues—

he cried for me.


in my river of pure-colored ceramic tiles you saw my hand flailing and waved hello


I am mad, insane, so completely inside of myself.


the thermometer spiked to purple,

my fever turned in to you.


hello, over there – do you see me anymore?

that girl I was is so dead and gone.

rakija haze—

turn me into an artist


this is my life now, and

I can’t believe it ever wasn’t


all the bottles filled up with their sugary goo’s,

then aligned so neatly in the painfully honest fridge


the mosquito comes to lick them, suck them

bring them back to where they belong


bite me, rape me


I’m just ideas, and so are you –

until those ideas circumscribe to one.




zucchini, that mush inside of fragile leaf

tomato, that cherry cake of newborn skin

blue sky, turpentine—

            vapors accumulating like pigments

            to shade the nape of the neck

desert beetle—crawl slowly across the orange plain

apparition—drape slowly those folds around my heart.




It seems I have lived my whole life

in that grey-zone where the yellow turns into green…

I find myself screaming forgive me—

over pebbles you don’t even regard as mistakes…

I am all the dots on the ladybug

and yet it still pains me you act colorblind, so

I just sit here, chipping the paint off my nails,

asking myself when the day will come when

I’m happy with myself

Old wood bridges, and chariots of steel

modern machine dresses, digging into thighs –

All the shovels in the world

could not unearth the secrets I hid and forgot

Buried treasure – I want you to find them—

or at least to look

so I have time to construct them anew,

and pretend to fool you.

Infatuated with my deceit

I fall asleep between wet sheets

and let the moon-rays puddle quietly around me,

promising of better days to come…







Part II. – Ixora



The cage was ornamented, divine—

soaked in gold leaf,

constantly oozing smoke that took the light and twined it around the jewels, hung so delicately around those ribs, agents of incarceration…


Ixora looked at the cages and imagined them dangling from her ears, dangling from her breasts, dangling from between her legs, as they hung by chains, soldered to Kegel balls, clasped tight…

Her toes squirmed in her flip flops – the front tips honored to be overthrown with the acrylic extensions of her toenails, which nearly scraped the ceramic floor, the shriek…

“Sweet smoke, tendrils of my destiny…”


She approached the cage and ran her fingers around its gilded anatomy. To touch it felt like the release of Noah’s Ark upon her – animals, fine specimens – crawling, clawing, squirming, galloping upon her, hooves and scales and talons on tan skin, some archaic desert, touched by so many travelers, merchants, prophets, eager to make their way through, see the night moon, massage themselves with the sand, dream of the romantic sirens plaguing the dusty winds… but never take the time to claim, to probe its depths.


“Yes, I am I,” she whispered, slowly, softly.

“I… am I.”





Lace of Gods

Take me to the rivers that run in between

to be baptized in waters with the viscosity of hard liquor.

I am all these things and more

So stop telling me what I am

The shiny orbs whine so quietly in the dark

And all my pain looks so glamorous in the day

I’ll claw you with talons,

make sure you’ll never see again…

I’ll be floating in my bed,

light pink comforter awash in flames

And you’ll be looking outward,

eyes awash in boiling tears

I’ll lick them up, abrasive tongue

Then sing a song to Bethlehem

About all the days, all the days

I’ve had…




shut all the windows and doors

there’r drafts made of secret follicles

these words come to me as a desert does its wind—

rose wind, sirocco

dust blown from distant shores

it is fine, so fine

to watch my mind machinate this way

where these words come from, I cannot say

and I’m getting used to that


intentions are not vectors

guided missiles given to hard targets

bullets’ eyes – my breasts

my scarves

that I fold so neatly when I get home


please – it’s not that I want to tire you

it’s just that I myself want to understand

these worlds residing in me

that are snatched around my eyes—

glimpses through an ancient keyhole


I am Clara

I am Savaje

I am Ixora

I am naught


all rotting, growing, pleading, yearning.




Turquoise eggs laid in nests made by mother

Worms eaten up and barfed for their young

Don’t let me go, don’t let me go…

I’m not here anymore.

How many voices am I?



I take my teeth to pull apart

your tendons like string cheese

just to make me feel powerful again

I am the moon, I am the skies

And for now, you are my sun


I must tell you this is Ixora speaking,

who leaves behind tigers’ tails of soft perfumes

Gas leaks, turned on for mortal wounds

Fat breasts, drawn bare as summer dunes


I am Phosphorous – don’t you see?

Please, just be my dark –

Cloak of night, indict me –

I am guilty, and always will be


I’m a big girl now,

so why do I still feel it’s just icing all inside—

forced out of tubes, by aging craftsmen

to spell a name, a false congratulations

to be devoured by guests with flesh drawn tight around jaws, lips of wolves

mastication, aired consumption

with snarls of delight…

Actor—I play myself now too…




little nostrils flaming out fuchsia fumes

I’m one of those granite stones—

that you slice up and put on the wall

corrected, medallion –

another long-lost situation

tell me all the things

that you forget to spit out


in the dark

I’m all these things, and more

yet I still think of myself as the naïve maiden

forever, I, naïve maiden

no matter how many slaps against my face

red beacon in the dark

will take you to lands unexplored, exotic

thrust outward in the toxic beat of night

and I’ll scream again

I love

            I love

                        I love

til the palms bend over themselves

the seats bleed into black

and I’ll just still be sitting there sardonically counting all the memories

on my right fist




Two strands – one hot pink, the other lime green

winding, curling their way around one another

and growing—growing

up, up, up

vine stalk, magic beans

tempo exponentiating, but, me

trapped in space-time

take no heed

forget that what we know of the past,

is just all the future

I, and the maidens collapse

froth oozing quietly from our red metallic lips

heartbeat dips just to spike again…

I’ve been all the people in the world

finally, to become me – just tomorrow

dancing naked in a garden with

little niches of chaos, little pools

where I dip my paint-stained toes

so they can hear the underwater beats,

beckoning to all my other worlds…




Part III. –Nameless



Speak to me about the days of rain

When you stayed inside and had to face yourself…



 Icy words – take me soul

Here on burnt-out bench I sit

Wondering when my roller coaster ride will come home

Plagiarized – I’m paralyzed

Feet were thawing, now they’re gone


Meaningless expansion,

All these fine lines

between depression and joy,

madness and an aspiration


They tell me to write down my feelings

to call to mind when it itself cries for help

No more sitting in coffee shops, no more getting drunk in bars

Just me on a park bench

            watching the space between ladies and their shadows


What am I mourning?

My sense of melancholy thinks it knows the way

Like a person you love, who does not understand you.

I can’t feel the cold anymore

Just the tightening of my muscles

Fire, my fire—

Come burn after me

Laughter, my laughter

You must never be far away…




Underneath the palms

I sulk in misty shadows

They call it disorder

and I wonder what order they have in mind instead

Stabilize me, clone my form

The air can still be molded to make my shape under the veil I used to gaze from

They want to put me in a line

Forgetting that the world is curvilinear, and then some

Complexity, perplexity

What, really, do they think they are





My depression? My depression –

It’s because I can’t communicate what’s in this brain

Stuck in a sandpit –

The harder I try to leave

The harder it makes me stay

Mind, no mind

Gemini enemies

How do I teach them to play with one another





I’m stuck in a place I never entered in the first place—

            so how do I find an exit?





I’m alone, and always will be

Feverish nightmares

      but no regrets.




I let the hot stuff drain out quietly

til I’m resplendent in my purity

Bulgarian mountains, black sea beaches

another dot under the endless skies


the falcon swoops from restless heights

the pigeon weeps its mourning cry

never again, shall I lose my wonder

I coo myself – to churning sleep


the sunset light pours in from heavens

we’ve polluted with radiating pawns

and yet I twinkle, eyes ablaze

my mind a fire, my dancing fawns


natality—it swallows up, all doubts of future glee

the hopes and sobs of aimless nights

they follow me, my lead


I’m shaking now – I see the light

twigs quiv’ring at dawn

soft dew drops fall, angelic grace

to pollinate new homes


and still we try, to tie me up

knots made with reckless ease

yet quintessence flows—caldera top

hot lava


       I’m free




reptilian essence – I see your eyes

it’s not hard to come by in this world

yet I stay a little longer, probing secretly

ore, magnetic forest, me chasing trace of green


the fortress you’ve erected, I’ve begun to know it

greeting sphinxes all the eve

but the demiurge, all his slaves—

in the time between the clock hands

   I hear laughs sung quietly


or are these my slaves? between their shifts

sneaking jokes, bout things told pure

you demand of me the truth, and I—

you should know, yourself, by now.




tangent heat spars curling branch—

or is that a tongue I now perceive?

the paint on the old house is chipping

the tarnish on my fingers, it’s shrinking

and I—


new railroads are being erected

the cowboys are grabbing their hats

there’s mud on my boots, already

mud, smeared—Rebecca

one ribbon caught in cabinet door

I’m gone now,

I’m gone

staring between the mountain passes

            between the mountains and the houses

            between the flocks of birds, they’re here, they’re there

            between the camel humps of continental hills

            between the haystacks, and their barn

            yard of earth, it’s golden sheath

            it’s drawing out the sword

the glimmer—the dagger

the glamour of the chase

it’s it that wields that

that brings me so

to these heights where stems pure rain




I’m on the night shift,

   humming with cosmic magnitude

Seducing the formless into form.


The wet, hot tears that have pooled on the ground

I’m levitating among them now

with a great stupid smile on my face


The odorous dimensions waft among my frame

Singing of a time when all was whole, all was pure


I can still see it, so why do I need it in my life?

Glide along—reckless voyeur

It’s OK to let all those old conceptions go.

They, too, are in cages

and beg our mercy                 

To let them levitate with us, freely

In the new sparkling, seething waters.




I read the lines that I wrote

in cold comfort to myself.


trace a centipede down my body—

multiply my lines


purple skin, blue flesh, 24-karat eyes

I’m soaking in the rays of light

not neglecting all my cloaks of dark


what does it take to pluck one strand from the feather quill

to melt one flake from prodding mountaintop


Olympus, the engines

you can never pin down a flame


how helpless is the scientist before the wonder—

the wonder that led him there.




lime green field

   teething hidden orbs

berry, baby, I cut the cord

   seeds locked between chisel jaws

blackened teeth—

   I smile and it’s all you see

my twinkle is searing you

   like a fresh fish splayed on Caribbean grill

and you don’t even notice

I begin to dance, and you—

you are shocked by the flat earth

that has the audacity to roll around!

celestial spheres! they are bouncing out of one another!
growing new limbs!

and you grab your AK,

   strap on your bullet belt

but suddenly it’s kissing you

kissing you like the soft reflections of the moon

and then, and then all you can do is stare

stare into the beautiful darkness of the unknown




They call it mania…

            I call it home

We threw away the chalices—

just as and a bottle under the stars


don’t glamorize the ill—

speaks the one with a stiff collar round the neck


stick out your tongue

and feel the lips you have to live


all the pastures teem with life

and somewhere far away a flute mocks all the fearful out to cage the wind

they’re looking, they’re searching

strobe lights graph the air


but somehow they don’t see me,


the I that is mad.





I’ve got fangs made of emeralds

   ruby blood through my veins

colorblind, my lover

   don’t you like it when I bite you

muse—all your nine shortcomings

   my IV drips in time

write me, write me—

   I’m writing myself, carving my wings

pouring myself into existence

   from the remains of the stars, and you.




prevent me from reading my own words

grant me a draft of timelessness

Harken the end of time – the diminishing to a point

that the mathematicians search for in reckless daze

Crying in the wilderness, floating with the bees

Stop telling me I fucked up—

when that’s really all there is.




When you’re the creator, it never seems perfect from the inside

oh, fool me

can’t you see I’m aching for paradise

he grabbed me by the neck, and I

            didn’t think too much about the past, nor his neither

golden complexion

all my freckles come from stars

I’m dancing in the shadows of the earth

where all the beings hide to nurse their wounds

I’m so confused about everything

and at least happy that I can admit that

The smoke still curls around the sleeves of my coat

from the lovers at the bar who smoked away their problems

and where I stand, in blue-green shallows

feeling the high-tide splash tight against my skin

this place I call home, this chalice for my soul

it took a million years to erect, and will take a million more

yet, I’m OK with that –

   among the hawks and the falcons, at least I can feel the air

and watch the aching sunrise, light descent upon the earth

look from baking ground to yearning sky, and say

at least I know I’m free





I intend to dilate all the receptors

if only for you to gawk at the limitations of your senses

Pink flesh, awe-some ripe before the rot

Curtains pulled open to reveal more masks—

the most beautiful in this world

Chins elongated with braided hairs

Eyebrows stitched in auburn pencil

I love the refrain, of the revelers dress train

rustling softly on the gravel ground


All the money in the world

could not supply the gifts you’ve given me

And yet I still see it in your eyes, the doubt,

fragrance of your painful truth

I can never decorate myself with it, you see


Ocean air, honeydew

hibiscus blossom, seaside lust

things waiting for me in a hundred and two dawns


have you ever heard the laughs of children?

Energy created from the naught

Lands unpopulated, trees uncut

Don’t tie me up again

Some sailors’ knots obsession

in the world, there still exists too many lands

            with unresolved hearts, beating towards the polyrhythm told

by voyagers from all the other worlds




Receptor to my flesh

Paragon of immortalities—

I mistook my icons for gods

tilt the day I saw my own power

Clouds, floating by

Thoughts, leaving me alone

I climbed to the top of the hill

Only to see my own gaze staring back at me

Rainy dawn, full of sorrow

place me beneath the willow so we can be together forever


I don’t think even she can understand

the way her music plagues my veins

the way I can feel so purely

these messages of creation she let loose to the Earth

bifurcation – sweep me up with her

all my icons, all my idols

to the land where we all surf on separate waves

yet the same richly-carved board

made with hand that has eluded us for so long

because, wondrously

it always will




imperfect moon

what idiot attempts to fill your craters

idiot soul, still telling me I feel empty

artificial light—

soaking in juices made by phantoms

rays that reverse before you—

pupil, dilating in the mirror

I stand and face my tearing eyes

I lay alone in the night

and as my thoughts fall, I descend with them to depths unknown

comets plunging, attempting to hold, without no hands

my fingernails are growing, my wardrobe shrinks to the cloths round my spine

arcing complexion – cotton on flesh

simmering in the light that birthed our human race

I’m here now, where the first ships sailed round the seas

where face’s skin expanded joyfully, towards the bodies that bred our kin

come with me, it all cries

come with me, and learn to love

learn to love all of the imperfections,

in their great theater of curiosities

that keeps me waking day by day

I am in a haze! Polluted space, I carve my way

The closer I approach, the more it fades

Soft tissue—disintegrate with me

Someday the children will hold the bottle of dust in their hands

and crash it upon the sea rocks

look to the sky and say

what more can we learn to free