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cobbled street, macau ©papa osmubal

cobbled street, macau ©papa osmubal


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john mateer

A mouthful of bitterness, a room full of incense,
both are an opiate cloud like a beloved’s dark and floral vulva

or the savour of her quick and churning tongue
under those eyes that opened like trapdoors for my double- and my true-self.

Under this coined moon when I’m a hungry ghost,
my heart a champagne flute crushed and crushed in the fist,

I am a man of the Twenty First Century, roaming Macau,
falling up the cobbled Roman lanes, wishing for a life absolutely Oriental:

that rhino-horn of Viagra and Ecstasy and a free orgy,
yearning to cease being God’s verb–

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