TWO POEMS – Peter Marra

Posted: November 30, 2012 in Fiction, Poetry
Tags: , , , ,

hot channels for a nightmare of sin


(medium long shot)


delicately back to the point of a low undertone

deemed guilty by a watchful gaze

drowning burst in a mascara fury

watch and wait.

give up sleep

“kiss me quick”


unscripted slow silent movement:

move the camera.

murmuring. she hears a sound

while improvising. whimpers.


her face is on a magic lantern slide,

she dares to look through slit eyes

at a glass held by her shaky fingers,


she looks through it

trembles deep inside

heard sentences that consigned her to embarrassment

how she had handled her body swaying

“I felt…”


the magic area quivers/salivates

the bright blaze

the relished haze

that’s why she’s always wearing shades.


obsessed with the object in her hands,

it’s a capture of her image that she lost a little while ago as

an insect screamed behind the concrete.


in the distance a blood-lust pleasure,

her dream was to become just as she had imagined,

although their video was never distributed,

voices tighter as the tongues dance back

the panic has grown substantially since watching


coal black mane hair.

she could only vaguely reply quickly:

“you have one written permission.

to lie down / to replay

to speak of a fetish that is cherished

by you.”


“darkness – cold light

fluctuating zippers,

can’t take anymore,” she feels her fingers feel

the sloppy wet nightmare deep inside


i couldn’t see any exits from the process

once it started

it played out into a

whimper sputter

coming to rest


who carried us home and lay us side by side?

our hands were clasped.


eyes frozen staring at cracked plaster ceilings.


a joy ride.


she showed me a capture of her image that she lost a little while ago,

clasping it to her chest – forbidden forever

draining the cup and asking for attack.

Cut through the flesh she exposed her heart beating.


the women she played counteracted her nervousness,

a tight bind of nerves blinding


spread throughout our

feelings. i couldn’t help her.

she left in a fury,

the screams departed

and i lost her love.


i realized that my mouth was fuzzed as

a gone feeling grew.


(want to rest)


being taken from me.


and the bullwhip moon ridiculed, then left.


only the fiery burn of the white air stayed.



screen-test girls

i’ll give you what’s in my mind

(they talked and talked

she looked away)

the streets contained figures staring

in the foyer women wept and pointed

talking talking

looking looking


at Ennis house / concrete carnivorous bleed

grasp a time in black and white

lies keep growing and can’t be released

to the nighttime clocks song

slight name

slight face

slight sound


an undertone

some undertones


a slight screech

what does it feel

I like what you are thinking

what are you wearing

right now in the nighttime




at Ennis house eternal bleed


marauders take thoughts and exchange them

in the foyer women laughed and exchanged skins

an absolute breath trapped in the threads

hanging from above – gasping marionettes prance

grasping grasping

until slight feelings emerge


samples taken photos developed

discarded down the street

at 4 a.m. funtime funtime kick it

kick it out the blackened windows


puppets that talk to the assistant

the curator of the word coffins

behold a fearful blast of radioactive-contaminated dead.

which resembled the funeral home that always thrilled her

dabbing fire pain with an animal’s confidence

the automobile purred mileage clocking

as the women spoke of coffins that are clear to behold


she appeared to have emerged from

a decorative velvet drape

that burned continuously

at Ennis house fractured skinless

she talks and mouths cyphers

slowly a droplet of blood trickles down her chin

at first they thought it was an injury

but later realized it was afterbirth


at Ennis house / fractured skinless

at Ennis house / concrete carnivorous bleed

at Ennis house / bury radioactive-contaminated dead

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