vanitashaze

This isgetting freaky, my friends.

In other news, Yusef Komunkayaa - HAHA YES I SPELLED HIS NAME RIGHT FOR THE FIRST TIME IN WEEKS - rules my soul, especially with the advent of his most recent volume, Warhorses. Like his earlier Talking Dirty to the Gods - which dealt with divinity and spirituality - this themed collection deals with war, both Komunkayaa's own experiences in Vietnam and the more eternal archetypes, the outer war and the inner. I do not often say this about war poetry, but here is a collection that is utterly gorgeous, and it is raw, and primal. So many interesting thoughts here about violence, struggle, love, passion, fury, intensity, conflict - the list goes on and on. It's magnificent; I can't recommend it highly enough. It's got guts, ya'll. All of Warhorses is hot with blood.

1.

"Hand-to hand: the two hugged each other
into a naked tussle, one riding the other's back,
locked in a double embrace. One
forced the other to kiss the ground,

as he cursed & bit into an earlobe.
They shook beads of dew off the grass.
One worked his fingers into the black soil,
& could feel a wing easing out of his scapula.

That night, the lucky one who gripped
a stone like Mercury weighing the planet
in his palm, who knew windfall & downfall,

he fell against his sweetheart again
& again, as if holding that warrior in his arms,
& couldn't stop himself from rising off the earth."

2.

"Tribe. Clan. Valley & riverbank. Country. Continent. Interstellar
aborigines. Squad. Platoon. Company. Battalion. Regiment. Hive
& swam. Colony. Legend. Laws. Ordinances. Statutes. Grid
coordinates. Maps. Longitude. Latitude. Property lines drawn
in unconsecrated dust. Sextant & compass. Ledger. Loyalty
oath. Therefore. Hereinbefore. Espirit de corps. Lock & load.
Bull's-eye. Maggie's drawers. Little Boy. Fat Man. Circle
in the eye. Bayonet. Skull & Bone. Them. Body count. Thou

& I. Us. Honey. Darling. Sweetheart, was I talking war in my sleep
again? Come closer. Yes, place your head against my chest.
The moon on a windowsill. I want to stitch up all your wounds
with kisses, but I also know that sometimes the seed is hurting
for red in the soil. Sometimes. Sometimes I hold you like Achilles'
shield, your mouth on mine, my trembling inside your heart & sex."

3.

"The blond poster girl

of this war, I can't

remember her name. Amy,

Melissa, Jennifer, Jessica?

Like a captivity story

that circles back, corralled

inside the brain - Indian braves

riding ponies into the sunset

with a white woman.

But when this poster girl

refused any false honors

& medals, she disappeared

from the headlines & magazine covers.