Lucille 
Pushing in
harder
nails digging
into lucid sense of
pubis.
Feel peace. Clarity.
The touch to swallow me.
Lucille’s telling a story. Papers and books beside her. She smiles and I feel
Love;
her desire,
a Communion wafer melting on my tongue.
Nubian
Mottled cream
thighs
twisting in lights
obscene
her index finger curled
beckoning
trying
me
always there waiting to serve
smelling of Columbian and sweet
femininity
like a child skipping new feet
her light seas
black like death cries
black as Nubian Coffee’s black
black
night
her aroma
smothers
flashing neon
latex curves sticky with
Vaseline
bare light bulb
blurs a halo
white like mortuary.
Empty
specifications of silvered wreckage
culture vacuum coughing death stench Gestapo-ich-spit
falling
blind
speaking in tongues gasping, holding intestines
Mexico lime floats, taking off her jeans glass bellows bubbles; light musty sweet scent catches air
distant with wet cave
plugs exploded veins
little white girl revealed self as – nothing
cans, beer bottles perspiring pixel pieces pixel people pixel identities
slab of groin pages soiled, deciphering ciphers with no heritage
empty shopping bags
a dying aliens asphalt broken memory sabotaged.
BIO:
Antony Hitchin has been published extensively in small press and independent journals including ‘3AM’, ‘ Zygote in my Coffee’, ‘Underground Voices’, ‘Ditch’ and ‘Guild of Outsider Writers. He was anthologised by Forward Press in 2007 and his chapbook, ’The Holy Hermaphrodite,’ has just been released by Shadow Archer Press. You can catch newly updated experiments at:
www.myspace.com/antonyhitchin and http://antonyhitchin.blogspot.com/
Posted by David Blaine
Excellent. Big fan of what he’s doing, good choice and post David!
Thank you so much for this.
Love all three poems, one of my favorite poets by far!!! Excellent choice, David.
I don’t want to be a hater, and people obviously dig what you do, but poem 2, Nubian, it’s like a teenage white boy after kissing his first black girl. It’s about on the level of a high school writing assignment. And I know it’s poetry and all, but Nubian -> African, Columbian -> American. Were you just dead-set on using the most cliche feminine black adjective?
Sorry, man. That’s just how I feel about it. Congratulations on your successes.
smart choice david; antony is the comfort of kind for outsiders.
nubian is a poetic word by its syllabic inflection, a correct assumption for a poem about femininity expressed and appreciation of such.
KILLIK – Thanks for your comments. You have interpreted ‘Nubian’ in a way that I have not encountered previously, and this poem has already been published in a reputable journal in addition to the chapbook. I have searched for you here under the name KILLIK to discuss the issues but have been unable to find you.
You are entitled to your interpretation. After all, it is yours not mine. However, I will state that in my writing of the poem (and please consider that it is partly a cut-up) the columbian refers to coffee and the subject in question has a connection with coffee for me personally.
Also, the poem does not concern a Black woman from my personal perspective in writing it. I would have thought this would be clear by the opening line:
‘mottled cream thighs’
among others.
‘Nubian’ does not concern race or inter-racial relationships in my interpretation and moreover, I don’t feel the poem itself sustains such an interpretation. But that of course, is my personal view.
It appears that you may be reading ‘Nubian’ as straight-prose rather than poetry?
Regardless, thank you.
Thanks also to NADINE.
Antony made a convert out of me.
If it is arresting, it must be written.
If it is alarming, it must be written.
If it is thought, it must be written.
Antony scares me. He is unafraid, unapologetic. Reading his writing is like getting strapped to a chair in a dark room. His words scorch my eyeballs like flashes of white hot light.
Yet I willingly find the chair in the dark and bring my own duct tape.