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POEM: The Goddess Letters (Part 5) by CW Cobalt


.41 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Only seeing you in ratty clothes, sweaty ribbed t-shirts, soiled holy jeans & the like, in the midst of the hottest time ever. Your face and skin color as pink as a cartoon pig. This may sound negative but it’s not meant to be.

Blame the oppressive , sweaty pinkness.

Sincerely, MAX

.42 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

3:30, the edge of night.

A light bulb blows up above my head, glass spits into my cortex. All the things I ever mentioned, all my dumb analysis, pieces of electrical gaffer’s wire sticking out my ass.

Yeah, sure, you’re the goddess, the lover, the patriot, can I push you into a vat of boiling tar??

Love is new to the unpunished, & I’m sucking too hard on the concrete, breaking my nails on the cracks of the sidewalk as I try to get enough vitamins. The sun plummets behind the moon, you fall into darkness & lightning conditions are not ideal.

What happened to the new cinema?

I’m having trouble swallowing. You should ride the horse. Look at all the other animals, they don’t get along.

There’s nothing but moons in the sky, I can’t pull you out of time, I have to take a shit, I feel like a fucking jerk.

.43 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

as soon as you ripped your shirt off, you started laughing at your own breasts. Your nipples were wrong, where the wrong size, didn’t get hard enough, had sort of pimples on them and hair. NO FORM TO YOUR MAMMARIES!! You laughed nervously, mini- psychotically, thrusting your breasts upward, drop flopping them down like potato sacks, water balloons.

You crawled on all fours, so that your breasts dangled beneath you. LAUGHING.

It’s that LSD!!!!! I said, and proceeded.


.44 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Ix Chel,
that phony actor is too big for your vagina. You said so yourself.


.45 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

i think you want to slay men. By extension, me.

In the orchestra pit, I am grabbing your calf. You glare at me, devolving on the spot into a blob of protoplasm.

I squeek: Won’t you join my band & play violin??

Emily Dickinson reading to us in a crowded room. You are making a concentrated effort to stare at me. Why is this? I am certain it is not for flesh. Are you trying to unnerve me? You stare at me often & for long periods. I don’t comprehend your projections.

I make a film of you writhing around on stage, sunburned. One time you were making goo goo eyes at Ix Chel, & you had this goofy top hat on. As Marlene Dietrich, you blocked out the entire stage, crowd, music, & focused on that chick.

Skadi, you’re a freak.
Sincerely MAX

.46 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

defeated image of broken motherhood, get a hold and milk, milk, milk!!
Yours, MAX

.47 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

you could tend garden, but you don’t.

You sweat in your jeans.

Your teeth bite into a succulent tangerine.

Juice squirts out as your incisors tear into the tissue of that musical fruit.


.48 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I write to you due to my excessive sweat glands.

Our phone conversation are increasingly antagonistic, removing us further in time.

Sadly, I now know I’ll never hold you in my arms again.

After I collapsed on my knees in mock religious release, my eyes fell out of their sockets, bounced off your sternum like super hi-bounce masterpieces.

I guess we both have reels full of shit.

We better….

Oooops, my arms fell off!

Hold a second,


.49 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Ix Chel,
you bring corn stalks into bed, the unshucked ears strewing hairs about the quilts. I twiddle the nipple and get you pumped. Water pounds on the garden path. Cozy up not, corn woman, lend me your ear. What’s that smell in your hair?

You’ve been smoking.

.50 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You’re so thin, I think you’re going to snap.

THE SMELL!! The color orange. Hair.


In sauce,

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