Steven Alvarez :: hours days four lines up staircases silent | g train

hours days four lines up staircases silent


¡lo! but soft what luz
thru yonder window breaks—
¡yup! símon—it’s the east
& Xochitl is the temple
of the sun—& she—cast that way
—reading something that stands
for something that stands
for something that ¡stands!
for something—          —chained—
so Xochitl—y—eeh—
whispering times—w. yr book an isla de mujeres—
me vale madre cabrón—
me vale verga güey
—¿ ?—¡ !d—qué chingada
call of that blood—poder—
responsibility—inevitable destino
herida abierta—subjectivity—
world bleeding into world—softly
—& into McTlán—ol five-plus-four itself—transervsing
opacity—& silence—invented existence
so for gone                    —gone—
este chingón—gone—
“I’m my langwedge”
Anglish pues—
heart in her can’t start throbbing—
body junctures—& she caves
they cave—into one another—
her body—hands & feet—
noma nocxi
—in Vegas where even the birds speak caló—
& when they hacen el amor—
they love undocumentedly—
Meshikan enough—
sí shiekano
license my roaving hands & let ‘em go—
before / behind / between / above / below . . .
O my Amurka—my Xochitl—
ga-ga-gachupinche—y los
Xicanos son porque xicanan . . .
& on / & on—


g train


            age of global performance aural instants
machine sputterruts & wens
crossswerves & curves follow fissures
turbulence enough to tantalize
on train platform
her arm bristles
brush mine
brakes screech chaos
whistle shrill—
Beckett’s Smelderina
brododaktylos faces
twin moons
headlights glaux
shake / heat / piss /
debris / rattles—hunting
poetry via geography
plays panourgia
smashed behind //
behind her
hair / shadow projected
on red grass / / /
sweating statues /
my slouching stature
to Bisbee—eye’s / /
shutter gestures / / /
soft arrows sink eros & anybody by the tag aphrodita
let loose them hound dogs /
sucked down two hotdogs / /
una torta / three horchatas
& some nectar / / / /
poured in golden goblets
& elegant iced glass beer mugs
served alongside thirsty pretzels
w/ narrative glass bowls / brass trimmed edges
city streets at night / w/ neon flashing my face / / / /
walking longstrides / quietly hearing hisses
& horns quietly hearing my steps his breath
quietly hearing destiny over my hat tipped down
this city where he cd hear music & share smokes
w/ music lovers


Work by Steven Alvarez also appears in print.