"six hundred cold knives standing up in lunatic sheaves through the fiery dawn"
Carnal flux
hordes
of flayed oxen
glowing in broken sensory flows
—
streams of beheaded redheads
pouring in the gray sluice of my torn skull
—
six hundred cold knives standing up in lunatic sheaves through the fiery dawn
—
flood of tender thighs
milky blindness around morning light
…
and my brains
unctuous atrocious brains
licking the blade of tenderness
Anal azure
When a giant blade rises in the sky,
yelling at the sky :
YES ! and fuck you ! sky,
the river of desire
in silence, may vomit
its convulsed scum
its slaughtered melons
young velvety vulvas
and amputated nymphs
and monstrous anal-dildos
dreamed
in
Salò.
Younisos writes what he calls "carnal experimental poetry". He's the author of Carnage Sensitif, in French ; and his upcoming book is in English : Carnal Flux and Sensory Slaughters. He lives in Tangier.
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James Darwin Wilson II (Thursday, 24 November 2016 14:44)
I love your words, Sir. Peace.
Fork (Thursday, 24 November 2016 16:25)
Oh Thank you !
House number plate (Friday, 11 January 2019 12:48)
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fingered isthmus (Tuesday, 25 August 2020 03:37)
Instantiated
jeggled swip adornment
in hovering barracks
downy with finessed kinship.