Available in booklet form. Just send me an email to introduce yourself and let me know you want one for the cost of shipping ($5).
*Originally published for the Poetry Slut Rodeo email and snail mail out in September 2024. Bandera, TX.
1st Ed. phallic poetry sculptures completed during Flower Shop Art Residency in June 2025. Brownsville, TX.
Reprint for ALMOST PUBLIC / SEMI-EXPOSED 10 at Artist Television Access Window Gallery in December 2025. San Francisco, CA.
It all starts with a good piece of hard wood.
September 23, 2024, Poetry Slut Rodeo
A totem of desire, an earth element of humanness,
a heavy stone to move up mountains
and reach the heavens, un pene ejemplar,
to carve into marble, a sign that the devil,
and my ego, wanted me back.
I wanted that dick. The dick of a someone specific who had put me in a deep slut trance. A someone who made space for me to vocalize my dirty and creative mind and cultivate a beautifully scummy longing.
I spoke up more. My confidence grew.
I spoke up more. I heard myself be truthful.
The dick as a blessed microphone.
I wanted it so badly…
perhaps inside of me
or maybe as my own,
if I could put it on.
I was ready to pack my satchel, make some sandwiches and cross continents for that dick.
BUT THEN ALL OF A SUDDEN, with the illusion of finally fucking playing on repeat in my head, sending my blood rushing, as I had one foot out the door and the other ready to run…the skies darkened.
A late August downpour in the Texas panhandle struck.
I was trapped in a truck, ready to fuck, as a flash flood of two words carried away my hope for easy access: “It’s complicated.”
I swore up and down like Scarlett on Gone with the Wind:
I’m going to live through this and when it’s all over, I’ll never be hungry[for dick] again. If I have to lie, steal, cheat or kill, as God is my witness, I’ll never be hungry[for dick] again.
It’s kind of pathetic but true:
It took me getting denied a dick I actually wanted for a change in order to come back to my own penile power.
Poor me! Wha! I don’t get what I want!
Wha! Now I have to find a way to go on
and not be an impotent, whining, baby. Wha!
But here’s the meat and potatoes of it all: instead of suffering from an ego death or feeling jealousy, I was given the opportunity to make a decision…
- wallow in disappointment
- or get hard and cum in a new way.
Ash is Hard and Coming: The penis I really needed all along was the penis I held within my cunt. (cue Sex in the City theme song).
So OBVIOUSLY it occurred to me to mark this Aha! Moment with an experimental poem/object/art/performance.
A stick, my dick, a poem, my prayer,
hold it, stroke it, cum with confidence,
be obnoxious again, step on some toes,
find the holes of ease and pleasure, insert
my presence without worrying:
Will I be a good enough woman?
I decided, I had to embody and stroke (my) imaginary dick to come back to my nature.
I had to activate a performative practice of creating my own kind of power I wanted to reclaim; to create an object that symbolized my true desire to be seen, to impose myself without having to go through the pageantry of “a lady has entered the room;” to stop looking for a special dick to fill the hole in my heart.
I’ve distracted myself enough.
Day 1, September 17th: Fell and Size Up
Find an erect, hard Juniperus ashei branch.
Cut with a handsaw and bring back to the house.
Peel back the bark with a draw knife to reveal the smooth interior.
Voila. A page for my poetry.
I’m taking my time with this dick because the more I work it, the more I discover my own stories of both power and impotence, truth and lies, and who I really am in connection with myself and others, with pleasure and my ability to express it.
Also, I realized it’s very difficult to shape and carve wood when you are the owner of rough carpentry tools. I am NOT a fine carpenter and have no experience carving wood (besides making spaces for door hinges on the frames).
But this is what I do. I create literal and metaphorical challenges for myself in order to learn. It brings me joy.
And once again, I love to suffer because when I finally find the opening…it’s bliss.
Leave a Reply