Cultural Affairs in Baton Rouge

Cultural Affairs in Baton Rouge

___________________

Deep South
Baton Rouge
Fellow Poets
Again Camp
Bedrooms
Quickie Poem
Her Boyfriend
Black and Blue
Black Opal
Desperate Birth
Ex-Lover
Serpentine
Jouissance
Monday Blowjob
Naïve Dumb Trick
Hidden Flesh
Young Black Magician
The Stain
___________________

Deep South

“those tropical songs
call me into the south”
—John Wieners,
“San Francisco, 1958,”
Cultural Affairs in Boston

it was all sexy—
tropical lush delta
heat and speed

embracing sex—
before her eyes
voice of big easy

rotten flesh—
pin-pricks along her
nelly spine

Baton Rouge

“denied long enough”
—John Wieners,
“San Francisco, 1958,”
Cultural Affairs in Boston

more than just—
the usual rather
tame translationese

not just “big stick”—
but rather more like
“big red veiny dick”

prefix “baton”—
plus rosy pink thick
rampant mexicali rose

Fellow Poets

“I can do nothing but write”
—John Wieners, “Second
Communique for the Heads,”
Cultural Affairs in Boston

she doesn’t much like—
her fellow fag poets
they’re a bit too vampiric

she prefers to give head—
to guyz whose pubes

smolder in their pants

she sticks her tongue—
into live wall sockets
up tight assholes

Again Camp

“Again camp”
—John Wieners,
“Poem #238,”
Cultural Affairs
in Boston

there she goes again—
camping it up like the
queen she truly is

chicken in a basket—
living dead zombie meat
boyz stoned in bed

her chimes apartment—
where she entertains
cross-eyed boyfriends

Bedrooms

“talking of bedrooms”
—John Wieners,
“For the Mind of
38 Grove Street
Third Front,”
Cultural Affairs
in Boston

the warmth of his—
lips, her hand down
along his thigh

playing with his—
pubes while they’re
getting high

his warm cum—
douching her mascara
quickie spluge facial

Quickie Poem

“paradise in
their pockets”
—John Wieners,
“Peyote Poem,”
Cultural Affairs
in Boston

she comes up—
gasping for air after
going down low

deep underwater—
strange creatures glide
hammer-head sharks

then she dives down—
again into his pubes
a whale in his thigh

Her Boyfriend

“man-pride”
—John Wieners,
“Untitled,”
Cultural Affairs
in Boston

he gets her bad—
down on her knees
elbows on the floor

but she gets even—
now it’s her turn to
get him with her dildo

fucks him real slow—
the vibrator on high,
nails him all the way

Black and Blue

“if love be dark”
—John Wieners,
“Bet,” Cultural
Affairs in Boston

if love be dark—
than love be dinge
licorice and pink

if love be dark—
jet black & uncut
peel it back, baby

if love be dark—
her lips black and
blue, that’s why…

Black Opal

“one blinking light”
—John Wieners,
“Ancient Blue Star,”
Cultural Affairs in Boston

sapphires are nice—
diamonds, red rubies
and green emeralds

but when she ogle—
it’s black opal that
gets her attention

slick shiny sheen—
purplish black serene
ancient african star

Desperate Birth

“desperate birth”
—John Wieners,
“Where Fled,” Cultural
Affairs in Boston

night nurtures love—
desperate births stuffed
down her fucking throat

despair the wry stuff—
that she swallows like her
seminal daily bread

does doom ejaculate—
does cum walk on 2 legs
does it reincarnate inside?

Ex-Lover

“nervous tonight”
—John Wieners,
“You Do Not Come,”
Cultural Affairs in Boston

she’s nervous tonight—
he’s with somebody else
wishes he were dead

she never would’ve—
thought that way even
last weekend so fine

but now it’s too late—
his unspeakable handsome
face smeared with lust

Serpentine

“we pass the pipe
of Mariweedje”
—John Wieners,
“A Prose Poem,”
Cultural Affairs in Boston

they don’t smoke—
they scorch and get it on
she seeks oral oblivion

her lips cling with a—
desperate tenacity to his
right swollen testicle

like a water moccasin—
with its head cut off
he coils & uncoils himself

Jouissance

“you know him?”
—John Wieners,
“Joy,” Cultural
Affairs in Boston

jouissance is french—
for joy which is a thing
called lamark bourgeois

he cums in gold—
in a green leather case
expensive male perfume

his creole cum—
simply drives her crazy
jizzy jouissance

Monday Blowjob

“mottled sheen”
—John Wieners,
“Monday Sunrise,”
Cultural Affairs in Boston

red glow on his cheeks—
he’s so healthy and alive
it’s sickening to her

royal family jewels—
smearing her lips again
burnishing the bruises

a renaissance youth—
she works hard to corrupt
into abject helplessness

Naïve Dumb Trick

“it’s better than junk”
—John Wieners,
“Jive,” Cultural
Affairs in Boston

who’d have guessed—
it would come down to this
doing the whole gym team?

it’s better than junk—
the toughness of young
dumb naïve jocks in heat

the stupider the better—
she settles for nothing less
than blowing built retards

Hidden Flesh

“your flesh hid”
—John Wieners,
“On the Photograph
of William Carlos Williams,”
Cultural Affairs in Boston

does dinge matter—
to others like it does to her
behind her sunglasses?

biting her lips—
dinge remains unplayed
its words haven’t been heard

underground files—
the beauty of dark men
down where roots grow thick

Young Black Magician

“storm to come”
—John Wieners,
“Steve Magellanstraits,”
Cultural Affairs in Boston

young black magician—
come outta the secret night
and let her know when

sit on her sofa and tell—
her secrets of the dark sea
black serpent on the mantel

push her hard in bed and—
show her sluggish current
of inky storms to come

The Stain

“the stain still
on my face”
—John Wieners,
“Memories of You,”
Cultural Affairs in Boston

how can she face—
her brother who she blew
when he was a chicken?

how can she face—
her mother who prays
every night for her?

how can she face—
herself in the mirror
lips twisted with love?