Poetry by Jos Charles

.

BOTTOM FEED

 

to demand is to be wet

with so many eyes.

 

i wanna be dickfucked

in the face until my dough

face fucks right off.

 

sucking is so essential it’s

the opposite of significance.

like ‘world’ or

‘culture’ or ‘internet.’

 

it’s fucked up

and ableist i know

but when you moved

to the desert and forgot

 

my name, i liked it.

catch and gut me

already, i’m yours.

 

horse of the field,

digest me.

 

another poem

about the sea.

 

.

INSERT_EYE

 

i put artificial

tears in my eyes

so the mascara

doesn’t run.

 

what does the

language of proof

afford.

 

lonely guys don’t

have girlfriends

so they build

them in their

basements.

 

this is nature.

 

i am nothing

more than:

the face

the dress

the important

bits.

 

i remember the

tall women and

water spraying

out my mouth

and nose.

 

i wonder, tonight,

burial of whose

golden bird.

 

alienation, like

the man to the

shower,

forecloses the

luxury of

loneliness which,

in turn, extends

it’s guilt as

alienation on

others.

 

there is nothing

west of this.

 

a woman ought

not be put

in the dative.

 

i was enhungered

and you

gave me meat.

 

 

SEAGULL, TINY

 

 

the …villagers …are

watchful

…

in …their …booths …at

boston market.

 …

the… boys… living …on

plastic

…

and …talking …about

feelings

 

and… memory… the

united states

…

is …the …collective

process of

 …

demanding …feelings

and a certain

 

memory. …i …would …live

on plastic

 

but …i …hate …fragility.

lonely and afraid,

 …

my …women …sing,

there is no father

 …

in …me. …they …talk …about

anything

 …

a …limit….allows. …there

is hope

 …

of …forgiveness …but …my

american

 …

corpse… has… been …such

a disappointment.

…

here …everything …is

new and plastic.

 …

i …would …live …on

feeling safe

 …

and …spilling… secrets. …it

is confusing,

 …

the …plain ….people

passing

 …

like… potato …blossoms.

when i first

 …

met ///a ///trans …person …at

age 7

 …

she… served …us ///mashed

potatoes

 …

at …boston …market.

mother winced

… 

and ,,,statistically ,,,it’s

unlikely she

 ,,,

kept ,,,the,,, job. ,,,i ,,,am

worthy

 …

of …eating …food, ;;;i …tell

myself. there

 …

is …some …hope …of

forgiveness

…

for …boys. …i …would …live

on their plastic.

… 

it …is …confusing …that

words trick us.

 

 

Jos Charles is the founding-editor of THEM – a trans literary journal.  They have poetry published (and/or have publications forthcoming) with BLOOM, Denver Quarterly, EOAGH, Metazen, Entropy, HTMLGIANT, boosthouse’s THE YOLO PAGES, as well as variously online.