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& when she ate she managed her hands clumsily

8/30/2012

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 / but in la cama qué cochina

 measure of wisdom: Dr Proust “w/ that touching prescience latent in women who love the

“male body so

“intensely that they immediately guess what will give most pleasure to that body

“which is yet

 “different from their own”

                       

            & Dr Chorizo sez “Hellz Yeah.  Hijo de la ching-ching 

“punto”

chingwow /

& from radiowaves scratchy bass / synthesizer

“. . . tanqueray & chronic yeah I’m fuck’d up now . . .”

& this sign in neon:

SEXO—VIGOR Y PLACER

¿falta de ereccion?  ¿no tiene eyaculacion?

EL FUER’E ERRRRRECCIÓN

            puesssssss

GRAN PENIS : EL MIEMBRO

& from there to another stall & from radiowaves:

“te dijeron ya hay . . .

            “voy a llevar mi chamaca

 

“y rocanrolear

“pues yo quiero

           

“estar con ella a todo

             

“dar a dijeron ya hay buen

“rocanrol ESTA NOCHE”

& arm in arm elbows akimbo La Pelona sd eso sobre Chaley & his living days w/ Xochitl

   before she murdered him /

turning to him now as they walked those stalls of hell’s mercado:

“Look at his eyes—adorable / & a way of lookin at women—ye can feel he must love “them”

cierto

however w/ ye Chales en chinga everything’s always

charming whether what ye wear / what ye say / what

ye read / or what ye do

& to turn ye insideout back home desert deserted[1]

heart turning to stone & hot wind

& eyes learnin

                       

            “believe ye me” C sd to La Pelona

            “believe I ye” La Pelona sd to Chaley dancing as she tapped her hooves

now we well cd all talk here

                        we cd whine ¿but why?

for always when strollin w/ Death it’s good to straighten

oneself / remarking on living one’s life fully

as possible / as variously as possible / & that Chaley

had several designs on Death from their first saunters

around McTlán’s wide avenues / when first she vomited darkbeer

directly on his shoes . . .

& to La Pelona—singer from Chaley’s heart--

strewn fragrant songs for ye Baldy . . .

carved for ye . . .

painted for ye . . .

& Chaley those words fall as drops of rain—soft--

exquisitely stained narcosis

“listen: an outbreak of ethnic fever—kiss me / Amurka

“I’m ethnically ambiguous

“& constructing a mass espirtual plan--

“for AZtlán / for Heela River valleys

“& nice identity crises—of inventions

“of MexMurkas--

“romanticized cultural legacies--

“& histories—suiting natural cultural needs—”

see Chaley cd perceive oppression

intellectually—had never directly experienced

as much as say Los Panchos

but Chaley didn’t want to be a ven-didi-dido . . .

like a Tío Pancho esp

—as these Chickenos gradually began

lighting candles to Sr Chavez & his first

brown handholding wall of minutemen

later adopted by scared whitefolks

down near tombstone / w/ walkietalkies

& wetterbottles / newspapers coffee

lawnchairs / & maps & lots of time

to wait for . . . well ye know who

                        see that wetline

Sr Chavez’s wetline / Oct 1974 / AZtlán / Snornora [sic] borderlands

UFW / humanshield browndeep / they stood

shoulder to shoulder to block folks who shared

surnames from common ancestors across

all different sorts of frontiers into Al Norte & Death

“stop here” sd La Pelona / ¿this stall?

“¿what do they sell here?”

“pomes / pennyeach”

“no manches”

“¿what?”

“nice / muy nice” read:

sent for family—“¡they just trash!”

but they all draw more welfare cash /

everything is mucho good--

 

soon we’ll own the neighborhood

since we have a hobby / it’s called breeding /

truchas: welfare pays for baby feeding [laugh track]

 

“penny mm”

“that one wasn’t so good no”

“well . . . there’s a lot here / let’s see”

sprinkles flowers

flower fates

owner of Sunday plumes

wind butterflies--

he descends as eagle

white eagle

possessor of arrows

eagle shield / scorching

of war / windsnake

he yodels . . .

“okay / yeah / okay: I like that last yodels”

“eh”

mescal

O

¿what’s his name? he: forgotten--

(when dios distributed intelligence)--

one talked abt behind his back--

that’s the very one / he just left

w/o saying goodbye—he lies fallen

on the road perfectamente borracho--

& he imagines himself—imagine--

dead—¡imagine!—he lies fallen on the road perfectamente

borracho / he lies looking

sideways—distracted—¿what’s

the use? old tortilla—not of

our inheritance—¿whot in the

woild fer? ¿whots the woild fer?

 

aright well he cd probably at least use pieces of this

& on they invented together more books

& shared looks w/ one hand behind back

that’s until they approached some freezer

bracketed w/ green neon & paperstreamers

& brownfolks on their knees whispering

prayers or sweet nothings they cdn’t decipher

& two youths lighting cigarettes which they left

burning at the fridge’s door in seashells

arranged symmetrically at the machine’s foot

& they thought ¿what cd this be?

& this beaner behind them sd Santa Gloria

her image:

& sure enough squinting w/ one eye while

coverin the other / they made out the shape

of her rebozo / chingao

believe this friends for when ye anda

in McTlán ye cain’t believe in things

w/ only two eyes / two eyes / y living Death

hispana

india

negra

espanola
       gabacha


pero puro mestizaje mulatotations



McTlán

& when he arrived this güerita La Muerte

hooves clacking on tilefloor

grabbed him by his left arm & prophesied some strange space:

            “for when arrived at país / Nueva Yorb

            w/ his Tío’s ashes in tinbox

& w/ highest aims

            “in this world / to feel co-ways to alleviate

            “legs of fatigue for eleven days of walking hours

            “I am 174 cm tall . . .

            “si afrecso you w/ massage

            “I will darte so you obtain                                                                                          

            “sentirte papi disfrutalo

            “I am warm woman

            “beautiful yr hearth for firing”

well & good sweet & yammy

& into his palm she pressed this bit

before she patted his cheek repeating

“stonecactus fruit Chaley stonecactus”:

 

tall gamecock who won multiple pits / but w/ this Pocho he met one fierce cockerel who pecked his comb sure enough

she asked him “¿who ye be?”

& he sd to her “I am Chaley Chastitellez”

adjusting his calzones / shifting weight

from huarache to huarache

beyond them narrow trail w/ barbed wire & nopal thickets there

quiet / serene early morning mountain slope

darkness cool / air fresh after long night rain

& to that broad valley below eight barrios

each w/ its own chapel & saint

so forget yr harina tortillas & beans comparable to plucking a handful of eyelashes & rubbermeat & get yr ham & whitebread--

hahm ‘n’ ecks—olé—                      

for here in McTlán / a place completely w/o consequence    en serio

faraway lands of tlapatl / datura stamonium nanacatl / teonanacatl / godflesh

bitter mushrooms which give fleshy visions bitter sight / washed down w/ a cold pulqazo

w/o consequence / Death already / then w/o will McTlán being

complete w/ all modern lucksuries

including plastics / oils / slaves whipped / jornaleros / Japanese internment camps / KKKs

            &c

& fine panLatinAmurkan hospitalities

 gold overestimated here claro

yes but Chaley Chastitellez : puro

storyteller & La Muerte / La Pelona

can do nothing but him embrace

& she rubs her baldhead on his shoulders

& there are great rejoicings

& sports for the next eight days / & visions

& vision

& then they went down to the shit

set shit to sail forth on the godly sea

forth Yucatán forth Isla Blanca forth

San Juan de Ulua 

 

burned some copal

 

& pinche Diaz sowed his pips

            pues he knows too people

            will say these old stories

            have nothing to do w/ history

            [tell no more—]

[but Tío already married La Marcaida / la güera

[& as he ate more she grew thinner]

& Chaley’s dead guilt sent him to this Pelona

to her underworld he descended / cast into water

into cave from crag . . .

put yrself in those chords Chastitellez / into snare

let yrself

not escape / yr faults: deadly—destroying / ¡savage!

mayhap ye’ve retracted . . . ¿or have ye

swallowed yr stench?—¿yr rottenness?

¿yr blackness? ¿yr faith?

ugly

putrescent

rotten

      forth 500 years conqueror:

“I never go back on my word” Chaley sd

to Xochitl: “¿what ye think I am  ¿a Mexican?”

& as fog lifts eight pueblos merge

& city squeezed between mountains & sea—hugging AKlaskan edges of rocky island coast

smoke from setting to setting / obsidianflavored smoke . . .

imagine

dead imagine

& green raw materials of social readymade here hey hey heya / sez some tourist

brushing Chaley’s shoulder shrugging as he passes & some gentleman

from this yellow storefront asks if Chaley’s

looking for one maybe two quality Ay-Kay handcrafted

embroidered goods made in southeast Hacia

yes longer he stands here in AKlaska longer &

more eloquent he becomes maybe less brutish

& after all this ¿why? Chaley ¿why do ye want to imagine

that ye conduct yr own train of thought?

for bueno: te la crees muy muy cabrón

little AKlaska in yr stupid soul

shd shutup & lose yr gall

& open those crusty eyes

 & ¿why? b/c why baby why

he ought not—never--

know / that he cd never--

& he doesn’t love

b/c she’s prob-ly

her husband’s  best woman

ever known that brown one Xochitl

her husband / entirely slack

& careless / likely to lose

everything down to his testicles

& she took care to wax

before coming to him

in la gran manzana

ni modo y

she más o menos

loves rain & him

wants to be w/ him

how he met her in VegAZtlán

she shuckin pearls

from oysters

he made her laugh

w/ his self-mexrecating jokes

KAY chisme

& if he cd if he cd

take back her past

love her antes than

el gringo pendejo

who colonized her

antes / before if Chaley . . .

pues pues pues pues

‘pos: what more to say w/ that hoss

y otras mujeres whose

name rhymes nearly

vision

perfected products & services

changed & exchanged at everfaster

rates / & the knowledge to design

& create value efficiently

again to market / & mark

& market it effectively

& to be becomingly true . . .

bohrdars we don’ need no stinkin vordhers

PERO:

vision  vision incense / dance / drum / vision

intense vision

a donde vas Tenochititlán

a donde vas

no puedo más

eso si que es

S—O—C—K—S

¡all common knowledge comin right on thru!

¡mande capitán!

¡en chingakay see!

common knowledge

diffused . . .

goes into land of Dead—McTlán--

yr stench / rottenness reaching

entire world—& at that instant

on his pipi: dead condom filled

w/ black beetles / scratching / crawling

& she / La Muerte remains

panting . . . coveting /

thirsting for that

& hungry

for Chaley

“Mister / ye’re a goodboy

“but just of yr own volition

“ye defile yrself—dishonor yrself / dirty yrself

“cast yrself into plumpy excrement—into ¡filth!

“b/c ye have found pleasure in vice

“ergo as penis penance do this:

“pass twice daily twigs

“thru yr earlobes

“once thru yr tongue

“esp. b/c of yr adultery

“b/c ye have hurt

“ye have harmed

“yr neighbor

“w/ yr lousy poetry”

La Muerte’s voice now sumtotal of contrary chords

—kisslurp / & suck that juice—¡O!—music / music

sueñorita / ¡how he mutilates yr harmonies!

[1] gila rivers & hills & curses shining miles per hours & hot stars & rollin hot winds & all those animals can feel monsoons arriving soon moving in thunderheads as tall as skyscrapers & purple mountains dipped into yellow valleys


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    Chaley Chastitellez

    Annals of Aztec demigods, Chican@s more Dedalusians in slouches, Quetzalcoatls in jumpsuits.

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