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UNDERGROUND VOICES: POETRY
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SINTA JIMENEZ
gold rush the California ground was dry as we missed exits between corral and wind mill oscillating in white washed metal he ashed a cigarette from a cracked open window as the yucca cacti spread their arms like highway tombstones and my roving eyes were anonymous graveyard looters beneath desert sky which is woven now in the history of our sex needled sacrament in the loom of memory I was in the passenger seat undressed except for panties threadbare and shameless he reached over to me and found the suck in my mouth in the burnt light of another one of our wild localities we passed through we passed, we passed identical rest stops of the Mojave but once we paused and I got high inside him our bodies shivered in the gratitude deeply within the muscle. madness i am a clown balancing books on my head to distract your laughter away from seeing that i am up to my neck in the silt of a thousand lifetimes quick sand toppling over me like syphilis of the colonials like a bridal wreath in the congo and in later imaginings i pretend to be walking the hills of the bay walking towards a lover's house the smell of dim sum as i pass through on a clear unbroken day Sinta Jimenez is an LA-based writer and fine artist. Her paintings and poetry have been published in several literary magazines including The Truth About the Fact, Forth, and The Black Boot. In 2000, she was a recipient of a National Association for the Advancement of the Arts Award in Short Story. She is currently pursuing her MFA at Otis College of Art and Design. |
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