eastbaypoetics.com

alone with you

tahminah zaman, m.f.a. — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 18:35:40 +0000

After I have
spiraled alone through space
with you

how can I not see you?
How can I not know
your shapes
and flavors?

Centuries slide against
memory, each lifetime
unveiling me more

The galaxies remember
me when I
forget my history,
my names written
on all the planets I
have loved, lips I
have touched.

My attempts to escape
my own beauty,
my own worth,
have failed. Necessary
blemishes perfect me:

Now that I am all
alone in the Universe
with you, how can I
not love you?

Filed under: ancestry, cosmology/mythology, death, erotic poetry, karma, life, love poetry, motherhood, parapsychology, poetry, religion/faith, self-love, short poems, translations, Uncategorized

unmet

tahminah zaman, m.f.a. — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 07:14:32 +0000

missing
kiss: unmet need the weight
of oceans
just inside that little cave
of you, like e. e. said, the
street of you, M o v i n g

winding, deep, eleva
ting skin and earth to
ether, either-or and
and, becoming a
single lane of traffic
oncoming and go
ing recentr
ing memory around
you

enclosure of lips and
shoulder, claws smooth
from scratching surf
ace water,
fingerprints em
bedded now up
on my hist
ory

Filed under: cosmology/mythology, erotic poetry, experimental, found text, gender, hip hop poetry, inspired by e. e. cummings, karma, life, love poetry, parapsychology, poetry, queer poetry, religion/faith, self-love, sex, short poems, translations, Uncategorized, women

husband father

tahminah zaman, m.f.a. — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 18:36:10 +0000

If I didn’t have a pen
I’d write this in
lipstick because when I
remember the lines and valleys
of you, the ones
you gave to your daughter,
I learn that
a husband, in a way, would be
father to me — the air
between each piece of my
spine, body I lean against,
male oxygen that
reminds me what I am –

this little blown wind
of my voice to you,
my birthmarked arms,
my last splatters of devotion
I send to you, that you may
feel and absorb them,
and know to re
lease me, too

Filed under: ancestry, cosmology/mythology, creative non-fiction, death, erotic poetry, feminism, gender, karma, life, love poetry, men, motherhood, parapsychology, poetry, self-love, short poems, the male species, Uncategorized, women

look

tahminah zaman, m.f.a. — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 04:31:16 +0000

look at me the way you
look when no one’s
looking. you know the
one. taking in the lines
of me, the colors and
curls. I see you blast away
on your spaceship, leave
your body as you consider
the possibilities –
hands and hips, finger
to lips, ball of my foot
undoing muscled knots.
how hard is it not
to touch me?
because your eyes
can’t stop

Filed under: erotic poetry, feminism, gender, karma, life, love poetry, men, poetry, queer poetry, self-love, sex, short poems, Uncategorized, women

mother-love

tahminah zaman, m.f.a. — Tue, 10 Jan 2012 02:57:34 +0000

know her; for your Universe
is held up by her
dreamed in her details
her body a place that
feeds you; home that gets
taken with you,
never un
separated –
a thousand deaths can’t
erase the shock of mother-love
that life is, a broom of
wily hair that, sometimes,
only a mother
would brush.

serve her, your Universe and
your Earth: from where
else does your
oxygen spring?

Filed under: ancestry, cosmology/mythology, creative non-fiction, death, feminism, found text, gender, karma, life, long poems, love poetry, men, motherhood, parapsychology, poetry, psychology, religion/faith, self-love, short poems, translations, Uncategorized, women

good at neglect

tahminah zaman, m.f.a. — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 07:39:27 +0000

hey baby, how’d you get
so good at neglect?

your silence is almost
cozy, it’s
so familiar

like a facial feature,
the expected
delivered.

oh daddy, how’d you get
so good at neglect? years
of not there and
how that became
your name

it’s a talent you
have,
rabbit and hat
leaving like that

the quiet reverbs
against all surf
aces of my being

my words a ball hitting
mortar and bricks, as
if your ear were just a paint
ing on the wall

waiting

Filed under: ancestry, bipolar disorder, erotic poetry, experimental, gender, hip hop poetry, karma, life, love poetry, men, mental illness, parapsychology, poetry, self-love, short poems, the male species, Uncategorized

mixed

tahminah zaman, m.f.a. — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 08:00:48 +0000

mixed fruit
mixed messages
mixed roots
mixed heritage

mixed blessings
mixed company
mixed feelings
mixed family

mixed blood

one drop changes my
face, mult-
iplies, makes
mirrors of
itself in laddered spirals

until elements combine
no poetry nor composition
is posited to take the
place of what
was there before

call it harmonizing
but it’s not always
peaceful
mixed signals and cells
make for mixed spells

mixed
Content
mixed fruit
mixed messages
mixed roots
mixed heritage

mixed blessings
mixed company
mixed feelings
mixed family

mixed blood

a single drop changes my whole
constitution; the body mult-
iplies, makes
mirrors of
itself in facial features,
laddered spirals

until elements combine
no poetry nor composition
is posited to take the
place of what
was there before

call it harmonizing
but it’s not always
peaceful
mixed signals and cells
make for mixed spells

Filed under: ancestry, cosmology/mythology, creative non-fiction, erotic poetry, experimental, karma, life, love poetry, parapsychology, poetry, self-love, short poems, Uncategorized

love and lust

tahminah zaman, m.f.a. — Wed, 14 Dec 2011 21:20:11 +0000

love and lust
are well matched;

she is love
and he is lust
sometimes

he is love
and she is lust

Filed under: cosmology/mythology, erotic poetry, experimental, gender, in progress, life, love poetry, men, poetry, self-love, sex, short poems, Uncategorized, women

immune to love

tahminah zaman, m.f.a. — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 07:45:49 +0000

I am immune to the word
LOVE
even though it screams to
be heard
remembered
touched

love is psychotic
business.
neuroses will surface
during its time and
after it’s passed.

when you say you love
I hear silence. deaf to
even your shouts, my
sweet

still spiraling, freefall
ing, along with all
this matter
the when, the what, the why
are nothing more
than details to
describe

death delayed by laughter,
erased pain,
a symmetrical reflection,

the self sung in a
lover’s voice

Filed under: cosmology/mythology, death, erotic poetry, experimental, gender, hip hop poetry, karma, life, love poetry, men, parapsychology, poetry, psychology, queer poetry, self-love, short poems, Uncategorized

an artists’ world: our origins

tahminah zaman, m.f.a. — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 21:14:44 +0000

the world we originally envisioned when we immigrated here from the many galaxies we remember had an opposite value system from the one we are experiencing now. we arrived with the disposition to create, to liberate ourselves from the rigidity of our home planets, the twelve realms in which we matched the vibration of a single consciousness, what we now understand as Aries, Aquarius, Pisces, Scorpio and the rest. in our plan, artmaking was the norm and those whose creativity was underdeveloped were to assist and work as apprentices for the ones whose expertise, focus, and dedication would inspire them into innovative media of their own. after generations of mixing the twelve personalities into a unified matrix reflecting our multiple affinities and impulses, we are now complex enough to bring this vision to reality. the suit-and-briefcase culture of this planet is artificial; the myth that life is supported by money is false. we have enough food to eat, water to drink. we have unlimited resources on Earth as long as people have equal access to them. the world is being turned on its head now because we are starting to remember our history, our reason for being here, what sustains us: materializing our inner worlds into the external, documenting our lives and fulfilling ourselves through the healing power of composing artistic pieces of consciousness for collective appreciation rather than consumption. to be seen by each other as we see ourselves, with more compassion and comprehension. perhaps imperialism and globalization happened just to jog our memory — we are ready to follow through now, the communication lines have been built and are already in use. self-expression brings freedom, spiritual wealth, personal wholeness. the time to be fragmented and broken, victimized and burdened by pain is over. this is the age of Aquarius, there is only love left. and enough separation to sustain that love, to keep us whole, integrated universes unto ourselves. when inhabitants of Capricorn arrived on our new planet, their intention was to heal and unblock the reptilian coldness blocking their expression. the materialism of that planet was transferred here in order to create wealth — a wealth that ultimately does not support artmaking, innovation in relationships and childrearing, and self-discovery. now we are all part Capricorn, we have imbibed its ambitious, accumulative will, its self-serving power. and the age of Capricorn is over, we are steadily flowing to Aquarian humanitarianism, loving and respectful detachment, self-assured service to our individual uniqueness, our newborn faculties to dream with not only our minds but our fingers and mouths, our pens and paintbrushes. we do not need money in order to accomplish what we intended. we are simply being reminded — now to act. to realign ourselves with our real needs and goals, allow our separate spiritual journeys to unify into what is to be.

Filed under: Uncategorized