Saturday, August 30, 2014

Mimi and Mona - Poetry: Your Fingers Map My Body

©Your Fingers Map My Body
Mimi Wolske
Mimi Wolske - Mona Arizona™
All Rights Reserved

Good God! What was I thinking
to fall for you ten seconds
after you pulled the air from my lungs?
Why do you have to be so perfect
for a female like me, late to fall in love?
Why do I have to react
as though I've been singed
each time you hold onto my hipbones
as if they were your personal guns —
"something," you said, "to hold onto
during a wild ride" —
and each time your fingers map my body
and carve surrender on my spine?

I drew articles of love on your back
in the sweat after hours of making love.
You laughed your wicked laugh
when I begged for five more minutes —
they turned into another hour.

My memory burns with the feeling
of your fingers curled in mine,
holding my hands while you kissed me.
Damn! The way you kissed me
and said I belonged to you
is like a collar around my neck
with your brand burned into it.

There we were, two empty tenements
in desire-deserted cities,
but you came into mine like a
bulldozer and you
kissed me on the lips.
It felt like an entire sentence;
I held my breath, waited
for the rest of the paragraph.
We became novels
written in our own
untranslatable language and
understood by only us two.
When you had to leave,
we became ellipses,
waiting until the next passionate
encounter with baited breath.

You possess the legend
for every inch of me.
You have charted my back,
the rise and fall of my breasts,
the curves from breasts to waist to hips.
On the scarred flesh
of my inner lip is a
rosy tattoo where you bit into it.
You know all the distances
traced by your tongue and lips
between my neck to my ribs to
where the cave is too tight to scale
without leaving the
language of your warm breath.

Neither of us is a road untraveled,
but old road maps are long
since irrelevant and places
anyone else once knew
have been unknowable since
a time before time when
we learned to chart each other.
I am mapless in your arms —
I swear it's true.

There is something wild
in you...I felt it under your
skin that very first night,
so I promise to destroy
fallen civilizations up
by their will
become feral again,
like an animal living
on top of the ruins —
but I am not ruinous.

We are both careless
cartographers —
lost in each other
but you are best at being lost.

Friday, August 29, 2014

Mimi and Mona - Poetry: Past the Point of Poetry

Mimi Wolske
August 29, 2014
All Rights Reserved

I did not anticipate you...
The smell of you in my hair
When it's time for either of us to leave.
Miles and miles between us,
Measurable by fuel, passports, barbed wire.
I have whispered your name in my sleep,
The emptiness next to me holding it
For months until parallel lines
Cross our paths -- walking towards you,
You running alongside me,
Charting you in the stars
All summer, anticipating something
I only name when we're finally together
You could write it in my blood that
This is only the middle of a very long story.
We kiss as if it's fate;
We can't stop convincing ourselves it isn't.
I don't cling to you -- not my style,
But I think we spend to many nights
Trying to force ourselves into the cracks
Of the floorboards and coming up
Rootless when our nights are spent apart.
I did not pray for this.
Time is never entirely erased...
We're part of each other,
Made of the same stuff as war criminals,
As Mount Everest,
As the last person we kissed with any emotion.
You press your emotion into me
On lazy mornings at the lake,
Or on road trips.
I press mine into you with every word I write.
When we part,
I forget how to navigate through normal life,
Rushing headlong into it, perfectly careless
As Lupus' girl playing in the snow.
We are on a mission...laughing,
Talking, fingers intertwined.
You said it first. "Try it...just see how it feels."
And it felt like my insides were burning,
Like my heart was on fire,
Like I could feel every sensation to the core of me...
You knew I'd like it.
I still like it.
Professions of love on the phone
At two a.m. in the morning
Are like arithmetic...
Statistically ending in bed
Past the point of poetry.

Monday, August 25, 2014

Mimi and Mona - Poetry: THE FALL AND RISE

© The Fall and Rise

Mona Arizona

All Rights Reserved
Mimi Wolske – Mona Arizona™

What is the distance between
My thirst and your throbbing lust?
One nano-crystal.
Be at my door in ten;
In twenty you take me down,
Sixty from now, time will stop…
Never needing much more--
Damp lips, skin and dirty minds--
To release this buzz.
Yours are not kisses;
They are implicit stories
Of explicit acts.
Oh! something's burning
Uh-oh! clothes fall to the floor
Fuck dinner, eat me,
Then get me all steamed up,
Wide open, waiting, begging,
drill me 'til I shake.
Your tongue chasing shapes,
Holding mine, I fight the urge
To ride you silly.
Sensual whispers in my ear,
Your suave scent, and what I hear
Almost gets me off.
Like a relentless magnet
Pulling towards your body
Is my vibrating lust
Until delicate moans
Escape the moist lips of this
Uncovered lover.
You and I are meant to be
Between the sheets of lightning
Zorbing together.
Your touch floors me,
Softly fuels the forceful need
For you to fill me.
In these watery eyes,
Manifest my thrilled surprise
Of your drenched meat rising,
So that regardless of pace
We provoke internal quakes
Every which way.
Bodies rule our minds;
"Now" has never been closer
Than when you’re pleasing me
Within these four walls;
Hearts sink through sheets burdened by
Complete indulgence.
With unspeakable skills,
You exceed my expectations
Of mind-altering sex,
Leave me wanting more,
Drippingly wet by the thought
Of what we do best.
Lick my ice cream cones while
I melt under your warm tongue
Into a wet spot.
Because you love it
Like the last drop of water,
Kiss my lush, south mouth,
Squishing sticky breasts,
Flaming lips, and burning flesh,
And thrust this itch away.
Come, let's fall and rise
For the seventh time tonight,
Fuck ourselves to sleep.
Honey, when I squeeze,
I can tell your heart's racing
From inside of me;
Me in wonderland,
I can't tell my up from my down.
Tears from passion spent.

Originally published 2011

MIMI AND MONA'S POETRY: Faster Than The Speed of Dark

a reading of Faster Than The Speed of Dark

©Faster Than the Speed of Dark

Mimi Wolske

All Rights Reserved!

What if the fabric of this
Dimension folded just enough
To permit you to move in bliss
Faster than speed of light—puff!

So quickly no one saw
You move into the fourth
Dimension, where you stop—voila!
The neighboring positions…orth-.

Protons traversing the realm
Of darkness faster than
Previously thought. It would whelm
A self-important scientific clan.

With the Pillars of Physics
Struggling not to Fall
Across the universe’s fabrics
In spite of it all,

Faster than the speed of dark
That shadowy crack,
That bore a different kind of ark
Dimensional zooming in the black,

Ran down the middle of a life
Bringing the future so close
It kept folding and the echo is rife
With fear of what one never knows.

The number, far between
And few in this third dimension,
Will witness those who glean
Like harvesters for the fourth dimension.

The echo is you resonating through
And beyond length, height, and width,
From the pitch black depths most eschew,
Flickering like an astrophysical being with breadth.

Felt in the eyelids is the weight
Of encroaching darkness,
Which is veiled for a reason; chelae
Cutting through the difference causing bleakness.

The difference that brings
Me to you in the fourth dimension
Faster than the speed of dark like changelings

From another dimension.

Mimi Faster than the Speed of Dark 0002