The Gaze of Flesh, image by Younisos
Excerpt from Carnal
Flux and Sensory Slaughters
Glycogen
throbbing
slices of liver sliding on sidereal platinum fringes
shredding
up the red way
to
visceral fireworks around round asses at Sainte-Catherine street
drinking
gulps of fresh blue sky
licking
the blade on the fair thigh
who
could snatch my liver ?
now
Interectalzone
Tangier /
Salò / Interzone
Cerulean
Hades
Wicked
azure sings and defecates hordes of redheads whose ultra-tight ass is fucked
too deep, far beyond rectum, into delighted caecum.
At Zoco
Chico, streetwalkers are scarce, and overseas perverts become too courteous. —
Only blue sky continues to squirt, perfectly vile and crude, oozing its jizz on
the square, haloed with iridescent vaporous layers of gauzy cum and ethereal
translucent plasma perceived only by the phallic Bone fitted with fluidized
sensory resonances.
Tangier /
Salò / Interzone
What about
sensory data ?
How does it
get sodomized ?
Creamy carnage
I might doze,
right ? Railwaymen, brats, the sky — fuchsia bitchiness… Pissing on her thick
hair and wide watery eyes. My cock cleanly cut, in the fridge. Banana spurted
in the dark screaming at rectal attitude, disgorging streams of unspeakable
reddened lymph, heart sap of the last laryngeal jerk. Long sausage gleaming
beneath the knife. Bowel’s skin. Under the frail tangent of gutted Eros I
stretch sparkling viscera along the crackling vomit of a mad alto sax. Free
jazz sharpens my canines. Vaïna crawling on the lookout for poetic
performances… she ended up impaled on the edge of bony glans. Ornette Coleman
blessed her thigh filet sizzling on the grill. I puked two large bundles of
erotic marshmallow, two milky girls sliced on the sensory block of the dying
pudding. — As you like ladies, I’m always available for any ax and legs
routine. Voracious. I never get enough meat for my thirsty marrow… Huge cream
pies haunting the arterial roads of the day.
Put your gun on my shoulder
square
bone gushes on the mangled edge of darkish spatters while smooth whores wail
and writhe in the woods my TV died of testicular cancer shiny tits illusion
sparkles around synthetic mountains
through the holy sleep the big toe survived the plague and now it's squirting words of milky wisdom and black crackling cum
the square jaw has come
sensual
anxiety puking its fuchsia gall on the final pie of sidereal panic
slit
human spleen
drowsing
in a silver bag
cold
lymph shower
on
the back of the three dicks beast
cut
off my toe NOW
it's
rotten
obviousness
is
scarlet
—Younisos
Younisos writes what he calls "carnal
experimental poetry". He is the author of Carnage Sensitif, in French; and is now looking for a publisher
for his new book in English: Carnal
Flux and Sensory Slaughters. He lives in Tangier.
