Elisa English

“fill me, empty me, talk to me, warm me, let me suck on you.”

-Adrienne Rich, Living in the Cave-

People of a limited persuasion might suggest that my free writes should be blushing. Needless to say, this ⬇️ is not. Nor the rest. Nor me—although I can be demure as all fuck... when I wish, if I want... It all melts down to the same pulse. You know, throw this on, give a little shimmy to the stars. And then? Just... my lingual execution... which I do want—to slide between the words...

“I love and desire you. —You’re insane.”

-Marguerite Duras, Destroy, She Said-

“I think of how the mystics read by the light of their own bodies. What a world of darkness that must have been to read by the flaming hearts that turn into heaps of ash on the altar, how everything in the end is made equal by the wind.”

-Timothy Liu, Vox Angelica-

“(would you like to read to me in the soft would you like to enter me in the soft

would you like a lunch of me in the soft in its long delirium?)”

-Deborah Landau, Soft Targets-

“Let’s just lay around and make love and take walks and talk a little.”

-Charles Bukowski, Post Office-

“I said I love you like math, Infinite and exact And you cannot subtract from my attraction Or reduce into fractions Infinitesimal as the decimal to my point”

-Chad Anderson, Like Math-

It occurs to me as I navigate another of those nebulous segues that I should chronicle these things more. I spent last night on stage, have floated through today on too little sleep, and yet there is this ⬆️—the least personal of what’s poured in (I have to maintain a certain veil) but no less important than this. So of course, my soul... It overfloweth.

Bless and bless and bless them. All the bunnies and all the bears. 🐻 Year of the hawk, blah blah. I know, but I’m still me despite the dint of my creation. As for the unfathomable? It’s not. Not really. You just show up every day, do the best you can with what you have, and you make it matter.

“you raised me from the dead // sinister digits // if there’s // a right way // to stroke raw honey from the lioness’s mouth”

-Destiny O. Birdsong, Ode to My Penis-

“Peel me open like a mango, sticky juices staining your hands. Eat me out, my papaya heart filling your empty stomach... I want to leave you dirty with the memory of me unable to wash my scent off your skin... Spilling out of your mouth, running down your chin I am everywhere.”

-Ally Ang, Durian Girl-

“Twilight—and you Quiet—the stars;  Snare of the shine of your teeth,  Your provocative laughter,  The gloom of your hair;  Lure of you, eye and lip;  Yearning, yearning,  Languor, surrender;         Your mouth,  And madness, madness,  Tremulous, breathless, flaming,  The space of a sigh.”

-Angelina Weld Grimké, El Beso-

This is Lily. ⬆️ Lily lives next door but has been trying to move in with us. Despite my best efforts, she will not be dissuaded from her quest. I step outside—and the coast is super clear, by all accounts—and then she comes running. And it’s all, rub, rub, rub, let’s play some tummies. Oh, and you don’t mind if I come in, do you? I would be an excellent addition to the 🐻 clan. Plus the law says that once I’ve had your hand in my mouth, it’s love bites forever.

She is obsessed. And cute. And wearing me down. And (and how many times can one woman use a mock exasperated and?) I fear this is my pattern.

I’ve always wanted a house full of animals. A house full of books. A house full of love. I’ve never so much as kissed a man who I wasn’t in love with, or who wasn’t in love with me for that matter. I don’t do casual. I don’t do superficial. The domestic trifecta is sacrosanct. And in the simplest of ways, I am myself.

In this. In always.

So, the point is... If the point’s to be a thing—and at this point, I think it might be a criminal offence for it not to be. If you’re coming in, you need to mean it. I need to know you’re not going to disappear, that you have Lily’s tenacity when it comes to me. Those be the terms.