(no subject)

[mileslivingston]

quetzcoatl

"Is it you?, are you real?

Some had talked nonsense

oh, you, by whom everything
lives,

Is it real?, Is it not real?

This is how they say it

Do not have anguish

in our hearts!

I will make disdainful

oh, you, by whom everything
lives,

Do not have anguish

in our hearths!"

we are the incas, the mayas,

the azstecs,

we are the tiniest panflute,

my tiny woman,

we traveled, we saw snowcapped

andes

therein,

we fished red herrings,

salzige,

we are every couplet of cobble,

we are the stones,

we are peruvian pyres,

we are mounting a sacrifice

on steep steps,

we are aortic codices,

you are papyrus,

you are vellum,

you are yucatan

you are you,

you are every dire liar,

i am every fox hunt,

every want,

you are every needle that has ever been threaded

you are the feathers upon feathers upon fathers of feathers,

I think you are mesoamerica,

i sink into you ten inches every year,

you live in california's
basement

and drink moonshine by moonlight

you are going blind blind from all the ethanol

I am going mad mad from the dopamine,

we are going sideways sideways in european-made cars

you are you, there

you of strong nose,

of tenacious complexion

of permeating lips,

(too ambitious
for their own good)

you were born into you,

your skin and your sun-gods

your ambitious hips and your

copulating cocoa

you are everything Cortéz wanted in a woman

(and every woman adores a conquistador)

your
panties

your
pantheon

I will conquer you soon

my tiny woman