Louisiana Lightsey

Louisiana Lightsey is a young poet and translator living in Barcelona,
Spain. Her work has appeared in Capgun, Word For/Word, Muthafucka, and
other places. She doesn't have an MFA. She has a website.
www.louisianalightsey.com



Placenta

/////

Of heaven, rather than field.

I don't know what that means exactly but

it IS what I mean.

After the poetry reading sucked

we went to a bar, THE bar, everyone was there.

I'm pretty sure we spent all his money.

All I remember is the leather nest in front of us,

I rested my heels on the bar bar-stool bar.

The leather nest was full of peanuts.

I said the word penis, over and over again.

Exactly, heaven, rather than pub,

when I met him I had said "wow you look cool!"

Later on, we found the floor and made out,

made up the violent names of our children.

We liked Viola, Sid and Cid.

It was crazy; how I love squid

and you held one

so high above your head.




Heliotropism

/////

Both master and concubine unpetaled the heliotrope.

It was like a long time ago in Asia or wherever they have concubines

so it was ok.

They wanted to ascertain the difference in the hair.

They felt like it was really important.

Do you ever feel that way?

The pollen was virgin and suddenly dyed by the light.

It’s probably by that light that many Nobel Prize Winners

have discovered without hair and with a bald mind

what will be taught to sallow children as cardinal.

Seriously,

if one elder pulls aside the ferns to show and tell the heliotrope

it’s only because long ago he was broken by the light.

Can you even blame him?

When younger, the master had dissected the cardinal,

the concubine bending over and blocking the light,

he was like:

“GET OUT of my light.”

But she wouldn’t move, she wanted to be an alpha female

AND also to see the veins untangling in his scalpel like heliotropes.

She bent so low, to sniff, to touch, to meet the open body with her hair.

Later they came together and opened through their legs fiery cardinals.

I mean THEY FUCKED.

They also shared glances of icy blue,

heated and re-heated the shocks of barreling light

as their minds grew apart and re-netted

like a bird finding at last its final nest

in the hate of the heliotrope. 




It Has To Make Something Doesn't It?

/////

Even if it’s gross it passes in the movies.
The super Loenstein.
Even the shift key will accept Judaism eventually.

Even eggplant parmesan has special effects.
Biangular, sensate, super-soft fry particle,
let me love you.

Under the hand you show up soft and saying,
don’t worry, frying is normal,
this will somehow make a super-cute person appear.

Recipeing together makes America happy.
Ingredients support the environment.
Love makes oil, I don't think it gives a fuck.