Poetry: Selections From Alannah Guevara

Crybaby (cw: self harm)

 

all my life i was a little crybaby

mommy swam through my tears

& daddy drank them every night

& he used them to aseason carne asada

but my tears stained like grease

& burnt like acid

 

i tried to bleach my tear ducts

i tried to cauterize them

i even tried to pluck my eyeballs

like juicy, fresh tomatoes

but i only cried about the pain

 

i used to save the tears in jars

gallons upon gallons of salty liquid frustration

and id put all the dead things i found inside

all the words ive ever had to say floating like gas bubbles

 

one time I slit my wrists

& drained my blood

& replenished my veins with tears

& theyve circulated my body ever since

 

when my heart beats i feel like the ocean

buoyant and full of shit

i have recycled these tears my whole life

i am a waste management facility after the flood

Cosmic cowboys abound

 

No one here is happy

In the shoestring shadow cast

From promontory hills upon the dusty seas

Riders drown in the breeze and

Cosmic cowboys abound

 

Ride the lowline up from here to highwater

In half a week flat

Rattlers and the regular crowd

Ride Tuesdays for free

And if you blink out the window

Cosmic cowboys abound

 

You can cry bloody rivers on my shoulder

Nail me down to wanted signs

Braid my locks like I’m the trusty steed at your side

See here how I canter for you?

See here how I frighten?

Cosmic cowboys abound

 

Gristled Tejano chins nestle each other

Like pinto painted skies

Become nopales suckling

Swapping the same few drops back and forth

In the hot and heavy sun

Cosmic cowboys abound

 

In ghost town, Nevada

Close enough to Vegas that chlorine tints the air

Close enough to Nowhere that I can see some stars

Behind my eyes

Cosmic cowboys abound

 

In at least fourteen states

Hues of history waver

Western aurora borealis

Or ayahuascan thunderclouds

The difference between life

As a straightman and life while

Cosmic cowboys abound

Sermoney in the Amount

 

Under scrutiny of higher power, evangelize!

When Cash Money reigns down upon us

as re(dis)tribution for worshipping Wages, Holy Deceiver of Communities,

then who is to dispute the Almighty Debtor?;

 

Whose declarations speak in silver and copper tongues

in the holy gullet of a cracked pleather wallet puppetered by the Handout

that issues divine numerology so we may, in the end, know our worth.

 

In the belly of a coffer or in the belly of a lion,

we are absorbed just the same.

Food does not digest because it is eaten,

Nor are we bought and sold for being expendable;

 

Recall that even angels lie under scrutiny of Higher Power.

Self-Portrait | Reflections on 28

 

She collects dust in the cracks of her smiles.

She preaches with citrus breath and salted lips.

She oscillates between orthodox and uneasy.

She twitches to give herself away.

She enters a room in size man chunky boots.

She performs over 10 different characters.

She comes in flavors too risqué for general audiences.

She blisters within the house of god.

She cries often and without your help.

She pours passionate lava into Stoic molds.

She dreams of The Lieutenant’s impending presence.

She saves time with prepackaged praise.

She raises her rifle like she raises her pen.

She scries vodka to see the next hour.

She grieves because it is her path.

She moves in aethereal circles to avoid confrontation.

She thanks Blue Note for Idle Moments.

She glitches in and out of her habits.

She opines for better days.

She profits off her white blood cells.

She suckles sugar-coated magick beans.

She bubbles her drinks to bring light to her life.

She sighs into the small of her lover’s back.

She taps her fingers to the arrhythmic melody of memory.

She cradles death in both arms.

She recoils at a chance for immortality.

She lives in the peripheral of the eyes of the world.

Alannah Guevara is a poet-wife and vilomah. Find her published works by floating around in the aether (or in Revolution John, Isele Magazine, Toyon, and Rejection Letters). Alannah is the editor-in-chief of Hunter’s Affects: a lit mag for deadheads. Alannah is on Twitter @prismospickle.