Perez & McWharter – February 2023
Kristin McWharter and Alexander Perez traded art and words. Kristin shared this video, titled “Breath Bank,” with Alexander:
In response, Alexander wrote this poem:
Breath Bank; or, How To Save Your Moonlight
Men in love
can inflate the moon
from flat to full
with mingled breath
They kiss as if
they’ve put their lips
to the lips
of the moon’s many mouths
Since the moon
is not monogamous
it takes all the men
in love inside to grow
One by one blow
secrets, prayers
urges, cries
into it like gasps
*
What is the moon
but a paving stone
levelled, pressed
in a heavily-travelled road?
Step hollowed
by penitent knees
on the stairs
to holy relics?
Seat on a riverbank
worn-out, worn down
where the old fishermen come
to try a last bit of luck?
Grave marker
for a predecessor
with name
wiped clean?
*
One had a moon
for a heart
empty of light:
overshadowed
The other had a heart
for a moon
orbiting him:
illuminant
*
What is love
but a moon
dipping its feet
in a river of stars?
Skipping
over night’s surface
leaving behind
rings of light?
Fishing boat
for fortunate men
moonstruck mouths
in awe?
Silver loop
pierced to a man’s ear
visible under cover
of a bed’s black sheets?
*
Hungry for life
double stuffed
with their souls
the moon is full
Pregnant by love
the moon births
a dynasty of moonlets
from its bowl-like wombs
*
Twisted in hospital sheets
the moon, flat-lining
heartbeat dipping below the horizon
draws its last breath
And before darkness
shrouds its face
the man like an earth
at his side bends down
Lip to lip
inhaling that final exhalation
his heart turns to moonrock
inside him
*
What is the moon
but love:
lowborn, nameless
mute, unwashed?
Content with grey:
a waterfall’s misty prisms
or a coral reefs unsparing pinks
unnecessary
A drag, moody
boring, assumed
eventual path of the outcast
missing pieces
*
No matter how hard
you try to blow it up
like love
the moon is not a bomb
*
The moon’s skin
veined in light
stretched thin
against pressed lips
With each breath
like smoke
it burns
from inside
Phase to phase
cracking its spine
mouths stretching
to speak, it grows
Keep rising
the men bellow
as tides swell
from their bellies
Everything shaped in fire
or by a kiss:
a halo, a bridge, a hearth
a pyre, a chain, a leaf
*
What is love
hardened, lasting
but a whetstone
for sharpening want?
Mosaic with tiles
blue quenched, shady palm green
to rest the eyes on
when nomads find their oasis?
Moonstone amulet
tear-dropped
inscribed with magical verses
to ward off loneliness?
*
Maybe the men learned
love won’t hold a fragile shape
if pressed
but like a bubble pops
Why the moon sticks to the sky
like a piece of gum
stiff, dry, flat
tooth-marked
*
As it rises
the moon throws off
its blanket from their bed
baring its swollen light
* * * * *
Alexander shared this poem with Kristin:
On Bitterness
I had a foretaste in my mother’s milk
Before the breaking of bread
Smoky tint of wine
Peppered flesh of hunted game
Gravy of remorse
Maybe I kissed one honey-mouthed
Too sweet to digest
Leaving me a humble-bee
Who is not afraid anymore to sting
Serving only a tart, solitary queen
My mother’s in the kitchen
Starving, preparing the feast
To fatten up her guests
While on her diet of gall
She disappears into thin air
Cruelty thickened soup
He served me, steaming
Rich with bruises
Burning my tongue
Every spoonful tasteless
She said all I would have
Were unsavory characters
For companions
And she is correct
I need no one but words
Do you think I only know
Recipes for unhappiness,
Dandelion greens,
Sour apples,
Discarded ingredients?
I bite into a biting
Dark chocolate night
Flecked with spice of stars
No one can deny me
This abundance of salty, ginger light
In response, Kristin made this piece, titled “Simulated Borderlands” (click here to see full version):
