Aubade Dawn splits now. The cobalt opens thick. Thunderhead slices through nimbus clouds. Beginning. Helios billowing east bound, hauled by horses of fire; snorting steeds. Son of Hyperion, peeping through my shades, like a voyeur |
The Bass Man Caught my Soul Afire His palms are enormous. Fingers, so large that they curl to meet mine. They strike the chords of the black bass violently. But this is part of their love. Crimson rivers are sperm swimming deeply through dried blossoms, and petrified trunks. Can I be your nightmare? Can you play that song forever? His head lifts to speak. His stare pierces me through the crowd and I know he shares this vision. He breathes into the microphone: “I don’t dream that often angel, but when I do its all in red.” All written by Christina DeJesus |
| ©2006 by Christina DeJesus All rights reserved. |
| Christina DeJesus is a college student who is currently attending Rutgers University in Newark. She enjoys reading and writing, sleeping in and wrestling with her boyfriend John. |
| Copyright © 2005-2006 Bare Back Magazine, all rights reserved. Please contact the authors if you'd like to reprint articles on this site. All copyrights are retained by original authors |
| Ripe Peaches by Christina DeJesus© Unfolded glands cleaved; smooth skinned and juicy at the seams. Ripened. Deep bruised ovaries on silver platters. Surreptitious bulbs awakening from some long humid sleep. These blushing virgins, Embarrassed by me. |